They say the war is over
by Confusious
Summary: Soap lived through his ordeal in Prague, but the conflict is far from over. New players have emerged on the field, vowing to finish what Makarov started. Can Soap pull himself together? Or will a certain girl with dangerous connections be his downfall?
1. Chapter 1

"_They say the war is over."_

"_My war ends with you."_

Price mulled over the words as he sat at Soap's bedside. Makarov was dead. After five years of blood, sweat and suffering, the man responsible for tens of millions of deaths was dead. It was because of him Soap had almost perished in Prague. After telling Price of Yuri's connections with Makarov, a doctor had pushed Price out of the way and began to strip his vest and shirt so he could get to the wound that was bleeding profusely. After picking them up from the castle, Nikolai had informed Price that Soap was still critical and had been moved to Greece, one of the few countries left relatively untouched by the war, for better medical treatment. He still hadn't woken up. The doctors monitored him around the clock, and Price had refused to leave unless it was for food or the bathroom. Price thought back to confronting Makarov in Dubai, how he almost died by the madman's hand, until an injured Yuri had provided a distraction at the cost of his own life, being shot by the man he once called friend. The news deeply saddened Nikolai. That was five days ago. MacMillan was making arrangements to bring them back to the UK as soon as Soap was well enough, and had told Price that "there's more work to be done". Price's ear twitched when he heard a noise. A murmur from the man in the bed. He distinctly heard…

"Price?"


	2. Chapter 2

"He's stable, but he needs more time to recover. Just because he's woken up doesn't mean he's out of the woods." The doctor said in the hallway outside Soap's room.

"What do you recommend?"

"Time. We'll keep Captain MacTavish under more observation and then, if he's well enough, we'll start the physical therapy tomorrow. His knife wound has healed marvellously."

"He's been in a three month coma, what else did you expect?" Price snapped, itching for a cigar.

"I'll leave you to tell him what happened, Captain Price. Did you need me to get you anything?"

"No, just keep me updated on his condition. I'll go talk to him." Price stepped back into the room and headed to his friend's bed.

"It's good to see you, old man." Soap said, his voice husky from lack of use. His hair had grown out and the stubble around his jaw was heavier. Price's lips twitched into a smile and he sat in the chair next to the bed.

"How do you feel, son?" Soap let out a long sigh and stared at the ceiling.

"Like I've woken from the dead."

"You've been asleep for three months Soap, I thought I lost you."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Price." Soap looked at his mentor "Three months?"

"Yes. It's January 22nd. You're in Athens, but MacMillan's going to get us back to the UK as soon as you're ready."

"What about Yuri? Makarov?"

"They're dead." Soap looked a little surprised. "Five days ago, we tracked Makarov to Dubai. Yuri sacrificed himself to give me more time. Makarov's dead, son."

"So, he wasn't that bad after all."

"No." Price paused "The doctor will be checking on you later, he wants to start the PT tomorrow."

"Anything to get out of this place." Price chuckled. "Price." The older man looked at his friend. Soap's expression was unreadable. "What else happened? While I was asleep?" Price was unsure of what to say. Soap had only just woken up and the last thing he needed was more stress. But Price could see in his blue eyes that he needed to know. Soap was supposed to be at his side for everything, he always had been, but a well-placed bomb had ended that for a while. Price felt like he owed it to Soap to tell him.

"The war's over now. After Prague, Yuri and I left to find Makarov's assets…"

The next day, Soap looked at himself in the mirror. His face was a little pale, gaunt, his hair had caught up with his mow hawk, and he looked a little skinner. The doctor said he had lost nearly 10 kilograms. Soap picked up the razor and began to shave, ridding his face of the excess stubble. Once that was done, he focused on his hair. His hand effortlessly guided the buzz razor over his head, the same way he had done it for years. Soap put the razor down. Halfway back to his old self already. He turned to the shower and turned the water on. While he was under the spray, he fingered the ugly scar on his chest. A permanent blemish of his ordeal throughout the war. While he was in the coma, he kept seeing flashes of the past. Irman Zahkaev on the bridge before Soap killed him, Al-Assad while Price interrogated him, Shepard betraying them, impaling the knife in Soap's chest before Price knocked him down. He saw Roach, Ghost, Gaz, Griggs, and Yuri. Price told him of the other soldier's past, how he had tried to do the right thing, only to get a bullet for it. Then there was Makarov. That was the worst of all. He was laughing, taunting, running after Soap, trying to kill him and Price. Price was dead in a pool of his own blood after Makarov shot him down. Soap thought he really had died and gone to hell. Other images weren't so bad. He saw his mother, back in Scotland, working in the kitchen and making dinner. His father was in the backyard, chopping wood for the fireplace. His brother, Matthew, was playing rugby with him, like they used to do when they were younger. The soccer game was blaring on the TV while the cat slept on the couch. Soap wondered how they all were as he stared at the tiled wall of the shower. He pictured his mother crying, his father comforting her, and Matthew trying to support them both. Now that the war was over, he could see them again.

"Soap, are you alright?" Price's voice outside the bathroom door nearly made him jump.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute!" Soap called, shutting of the water and grabbing his towel. There was no time to reminisce. There was work to be done. If he wanted to get back in the field as soon as possible, he needed to get back into shape, fast.

"How's he doing?" Price looked out the window to the courtyard below. Soap was training under the warm sun with the doctor close by, hitting the punching bag hard and fast. It had been three days and Soap was slowly getting back to normal. He had gone back to solid food, was working out as much as he could and had even gained back some muscle. He had been seeing a therapist under Price's orders, albeit reluctantly, where he had made good progress. The doctor said he should be good to go by the end of the week.

"He's a tough one Mac." MacMillan chuckled over the line. "He's good to go by Monday."

"Excellent. I'll make the arrangements to bring you home. And I hate to bring this up so early, but we have a new mission for you and Captain MacTavish."

"What mission is this?"

"The details are still being written, but I'll brief you myself when you return."

"Must be important if you need to leave the safety of your office."

"I'll let that one slide." MacMillan said, but Price could practically see his smile. "In the meantime John, take this time for some R&R. Lord knows you need it."

"Wait, I need to ask one more favour."

An hour and a half later, Soap was walking back into the room, using his towel to wipe the sweat off his body. He saw Price at the window with the phone in his hand.

"What is it?" he asked, cocking a brow.

"There's a call for you." Price smiled, handing him the phone and walking out. Soap cautiously put the handset to his ear.

"Hello?"

"John? John, is that you? Oh thank God!" Soap felt like a tonne of bricks had fallen on him and it took a few seconds to process the identity of the voice on the other side of the line. He felt his throat tighten.

"Mum?"


	3. Chapter 3

Four days later, SAS Headquarters, Hereford…

Price threw the butt of his cigar away as the chopper landed. MacMillan was standing several feet away, along with Ewan Lawless, the commander of the base. Price thought Mac looked exactly the same, with his brown hair in a smart cut, his eyes sharp and his build fit. The only thing different were the more age lines around his eyes and mouth. He was wearing his commander's uniform and beret. Lawless looked tough, as expected of a man in his position. He was wearing SAS fatigues and shiny boots. He had blond thinning blond hair and grey eyes, along with a neat beard around his mouth. Price and Soap bailed out of the helicopter and ran over. Mac shook their hands, smiling all the way.

"It's good to see you both alive and well gentlemen."

"It's good to be alive." Price replied.

"Welcome back to our stomping grounds." Lawless said, leading them to the main building. Soldiers were everywhere, most of them going to training or just going. Most had leave requests granted and were going home to their families.

"Now John, I'll let you and Captain MacTavish settle in." Mac said as he took them to the barracks. Soap and Price got a room to themselves each. "We brief at 1300 hours, but I need you both to come to my quarters in the guest barracks before then. Fifteen minutes."

"Yes sir." Price nodded.

Fifteen minutes later…

Price and Soap walked down the bright hallway to Mac's quarters in the guest barracks. There weren't many people around, just the odd soldier here and there. Price knocked on the door and it quickly opened.

"Right on time." Mac said, coming out and closing the door behind him. He then turned right and walked down the hall. "Well come on!" he ordered when he realised Soap and Price weren't following him. They went further down and stopped at a door labelled "304". "Now, Captain MacTavish, this is for you." Soap was confused when Mac knocked. Not even a second later, the door swung open, and Soap saw the skinny figure of…

"Mum?" Irene MacTavishs' head snapped in his direction. Her mouth fell open, and she jumped onto him. Soap got a hold of his wits just in time to catch her. Irene burst out in sobs.

"Oh John, oh my oldest son…" her words were muffled against his uniform. Price smiled and followed Mac as Soap's father emerged, leading them into the room.

"Thanks for that." Price said. Mac shook his head.

"The least I could do. But Soap's not the only one who gets a surprise today, lad." Price noticed they had stopped a few doors down, room 310. Mac knocked again and a "come in" was heard. Price froze. He knew that voice. Mac grabbed his sleeve and pulled him in. Price thought he was dreaming. Standing there was his wife, Trisha. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered. Her red hair was in a bun, her green eyes sparkled, and a look of elation dawned on her face. "I'll leave you to get re-acquainted."

Soap let out an "oof!" as he fell onto the couch, his mother picking up a plate from the table.

"Your mother made these especially. I know because she nearly broke my hand when I tried to take one earlier." Glenn MacTavish glared mockingly at Irene, who shook her head as she sat down. Soap instantly salivated when he saw his mother's macaroons adorn the plate. He hadn't had one in years, since he was last on leave.

"Thanks Mum." He said, picking one up and biting into it. The sweetness oozed in his mouth. Much better than rations.

"We're so happy to see you son." Glenn clutched Soap's shoulder. "Your mother and I always believed in you."

"Even after Price and I were labelled fugitives?"

"We never put any stock into that." Irene said.

"I don't suppose you can tell us any of your wild adventures?" Glenn suggested, reaching for the plate and grabbing a macaroon before his wife could whisk it out of reach.

"If I tell you, my superiors would probably kill you." Soap joked, grabbing another biscuit. He wanted to tell them. He really did. Soap could always rely on his parents to help him offload the baggage he kept on his shoulders. But not this time. The truth was, all he wanted to do, when he first saw his mother, was break down and cry, hold on to her like he did when he was a boy to release his frustration. But he was nearly 30 and there was no room for that. It was his job to protect them now, not the other way around.

"Worth a try." Glenn shrugged.

"Do you have any missions coming up?" Irene asked.

"I'm getting briefed at one." As soon as the words left his mouth, Soap instantly regretted them. Irene's face became stormy.

"John Glenn MacTavish, are you serious? You just got back!" Soap rarely flinched. But both he and his father did when her voice raised several octaves. "You've returned from a bloody war, and now they're sending you to God knows where?" she stood up "I'm going to have a word with that MacMillan fellow." Soap jumped off the couch and blocked the door.

"Mum, please! They need me out there! I need to clean up the mess that's been left behind!"

"They can get someone bloody else to do it!" Irene shouted.

"Darling, I'm not pleased either, but we need to let John do this." Glenn said gently, gripping her shoulders from behind. "He'll get some leave sooner or later."

"What about now? I'm his mother! I can't just let him -"

"Mum!" Soap interrupted. "I'll be fine! I've always come back before." Irene searched her son's face and sighed.

"Well, I guess there's no use arguing. But you need to take better care of yourself!"

"I will."

"Come home alive!"

"I promise."

"Good. You still need to think about life after war, son. You can't be a soldier forever, you need to meet the right girl and settle down. I want some grandchildren!" Soap nearly fell over.

War room, main building, 1300 hours

Soap eyed the older men that were around the room. Most of them were high ranking officers in flawless and well decorated uniforms. Their assistants, officers further down the ladder, were next to them, ready and waiting for orders. MacMillan, who was standing next to Soap and Price at the centre of the table, raised his voice.

"Attention please!" the others went silent and all eyes fell on him. "First of all, I want to welcome Captains John Price and John MacTavish back from their long absence!" there was an outbreak of applause "Thanks to you lads, the war is over." Mac's face went grim "But the conflict isn't." Makarov's wanted poster appeared on the interactive screen in front of the wall behind him. A red "X" appeared through the picture "On January 17, Vladimir Alekseyvich Makarov was killed in Dubai by Captain Price. But, as we feared, others have risen to take his place in the Ultranationalist regime." The mug shot of a fat, balding man came on the screen "This is Lenin Sergeyvich Kosalov, Makarov's right hand. He's managed to elude capture so far, and has taken the top spot among the Ultranationalists. He is now number one on all international wanted lists." Kosalov's mug shot went to the top corner of the screen and the one of a female in her early sixties appeared. She was thin, had long, silvery hair, and a face that had obviously been Botoxed. "This is Ursa Nikolaievna Makarov, Vladimir Makarov's mother. She's encouraged her son in his endeavours, and even carried out some of his plans personally. She was present at the massacre at Zahkaev Airport." A security camera photo of Ursa in a car appeared. "Unfortunately, she, along with Lenin, has disappeared after Makarov's death. They are wanted for high treason and the murders of thousands. Now that we have clarified this, let's get to the mission." The screen went blank. "Captain Price, Captain MacTavish, it is our job to gain control of Makarov's assets in order to compile evidence against the Ultranationalists for their crimes against humanity. We have received word from our spies that Makarov has ordered all "liabilities", living or otherwise, be taken out of the picture in the event of his death."

"Bastard's trying to cover his tracks." Price said. MacMillan nodded.

"As we speak, many of Makarov's prisoners are being executed, but our sources have located two high priority witnesses that are still alive." Two pictures came up. On the left was a picture of a man in his sixties, with a salt and pepper beard. On the right was a young woman in her twenties with light brown hair and hazel eyes. "This is Aleksey Efemovich Makarov. His father. He disappeared last year in London, in early June. Aleksey divorced Ursa while Vladimir was three years old, and has always been against their terroristic ideals. Word is he disowned his son once he discovered Vladimir's less than savoury activities. The girl" Mac pointed to the other picture "is Melissa Alekseyevna Morton. She is Aleksey's daughter, and Makarov's half-sister. Her mother was an American, and she was raised by her grandparents since her mother's death. Her grandfather is General Levi Morton of the American Army. She also disappeared in June last year, after her graduation from Oxford University."

"Makarov kidnapped them?" Soap spoke up.

"Yes. Our sources have spotted them in Makarov's various torture chambers around the world. He likes to move them around to avoid rescue." A picture of a castle in snowy mountains filled the screen. "This is Werbachnet Fortress, in west Germany. It has a notorious and gruesome history, having a reputation as the Devil's Castle. This is where Aleksey and Melissa are currently being held, and we also believe Ursa is there. She's probably relishing in their suffering in wants to keep them alive as long as possible. Captain Price, Captain MacTavish, your mission is to infiltrate the fortress and get our targets out of there. And if Ursa is indeed there as well, take her alive."

"What will we be up against?" Price questioned.

"Makarov has always made sure his mother was well protected. Our spy says there are at least thirty men in the fortress, ten of them her personal escorts. The dungeons and security rooms are well guarded. The soldiers are equipped with standard rifles, but there is anti-air and tank weaponry in the guard towers. You leave in two hours and will meet one of our spies in the forest five kilometres from the fortress. Stealth is required, so you must enter by the cover of night or risk being seen. If that happens, our targets will most likely be killed, and that is something we can afford. Good luck gentlemen."


	4. Chapter 4

Forest, 5kms from Werbachnet Fortress, 2000 hours

Soap looked around him. Price, himself and ten other men were crouching in the snow under the cover of darkness. Despite wearing thermals, Soap felt a shiver run through his body. They had arrived by helicopter earlier that afternoon and were due to meet the contact any minute. All of a sudden, a sharp whistle pierced the silence and a man in winter gear holding a rifle appeared from behind a tree a few meters away.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." He said in a loud whisper.

"Unless my friend joins the enemy." Price replied in the code phrase. The man walked out from his position, and the others stood to meet him.

"Welcome." There was an evident Russian accent "I am Doval. I apologise for my tardiness, I had to make sure I wasn't being followed. You are Price?"

"Yes. How's the situation in the castle?"

"Ursa Makarov left this afternoon for France. She has ordered most of the soldiers to stay behind and take care of business, but to bring the two prisoners you are after. They are scheduled to leave in an hour."

"What are we up against?"

"The security is unevenly spread throughout the fortress, but the control room is the most heavily guarded. The cells and torture chambers have at leave five guards, and the rest is patrol."

"If Ursa wants them soon, we have to move fast." Soap said.

"Agreed." Price replied and turned to Doval "Let's go."

Soap heard the loud laughter as they inched slowly to the brightly lit hallway. Apparently some guards preferred the drink over the duty. The team had slip into six groups of two after sneaking into the castle through some heavy treeline. Price was with him. Hopefully two of the teams were making their way to the control room to knock out the cameras. Price peeked around the corner. The red light on the camera down the hall was still on. Until a couple seconds later.

"Now!" Price ordered, turning into the hall and shooting at the guards. Then, as predicted, there were yells and the sounds of boots running towards them. The gunfire had alerted the other guards. Soap pulled the trigger and the oncoming guards dropped to the ground. They ran down the corridor and turned, shooting at the others coming their way. In about a minute they reached the control room. "Report!"

"The father is in one of the torture chambers sir, one floor below, third door on the right. We can't see the daughter." One of the soldiers informed.

"She's probably in the dungeon, where they don't have cameras. Stay here and keep the area secure! Soap, let's go!" Soap followed Price out of the control room down the stairs next to it. Two other groups were already barging into the torture chambers, but the immediately headed to the third on the right, where they met another group. One of the soldiers placed a breach bomb on the door. "Breach in three, two, one!" the door exploded, and in what felt like slow motion, Soap shot the three guards around an operating table. Price ran over to Aleksey, who was lying on it. His beard and hair were unruly and long, and he stank. He looked dazed and out of it. He was mumbling in Russian.

"He says his daughter's in trouble in the dungeon!" another solder translated, gently pushing the old man up. Soap didn't need a cue as he ran out of the room, Price following close behind. They ran down to the lower levels, shooting along the way, until they reached the dank, dark, torch lit dungeons. Soap hated to imagine what happened in the cells since the fortress' contruction. Most had been emptied by the other groups, except for one on the end closest to them. Soap set breach charges around the door, and with Price's nod, pushed the detonator. Two guards were crouching over a female form, until they were shot in the head. Soap pushed them out of the way and was taken aback at what he saw. Melissa was pale, half conscious and practically naked except for her underwear. She was in bad shape. There were bruises and cuts all over her slim body.

"She's cold as ice; she might be in hypothermic shock." Price immediately took a blanket from the stone ledge and wrapped her in it.

"Nikolai, can you hear me?" Soap spoke on his radio.

"Yes, my friend." Nikolai's voice was surrounded by static.

"We have the targets, we need exfil."

"Roger! ETA one minute."

"Copy." Soap watched as Price picked the girl up like she was nothing. The quickly left the dungeon and made their way to the top of the fortress, where the other group with Aleksey was waiting. Nikolai and several other choppers closed in, some with others soldiers and analysts to assess the hideout.


	5. Chapter 5

Soap walked towards the mess hall for breakfast. He had barely gotten a wink of sleep last night and felt like a zombie. He was supposed to meet with MacMillan and Price later to debrief the mission. All he wanted was some grub and a several mugs of coffee. He sat at the end of one of the tables after getting his food and began to eat, shovelling his eggs. Price joined him a minute later.

"Slowly Soap, you'll choke." He said, bringing his mug of tea to his lips. Soap snorted and swigged his coffee. "General Morton and his wife are en-route as we speak, they're due to arrive this afternoon, 1500 hours." Soap put down his mug.

"How are they?"

"The doctor says they have God knows what in their blood, and multiple traumas. They were injected with sedatives regularly to prevent escape."

"Family values aren't the same as they used to be." Soap shook his head.

"Aleksey is in worse shape than Melissa is. He has the worst injuries."

"Makarov was taking out his frustrations on them." Soap tried to block the images of Melissa cowering in a corner while predatory men loomed over her, and Aleksey being beaten until he could no longer stand.

"Most likely. Mac wants to meet us after breakfast, so eat up."

Mission briefing room, 1000 hours

"Aleksey Makarov used to be a carpenter, leading a simple life before the war. He and Ursa were together for six years until he divorced her, citing "irreconcilable differences", claiming she stole from him and was constantly seeing other men." Mac explained in the mission briefing room, empty except for himself, Soap and Price. The face of a pretty woman in her late twenties appeared on the screen. She had short blond hair, brown eyes and a nice smile "He met Melissa's mother, Jane Morton, in Arizona eighteen years later. She was a teacher at the local elementary school. They never married and Jane gave birth in a few years. She died in a house fire when Melissa was six months old. She left custody of her daughter to her parents."

"Why not Aleksey?" Price asked.

"She probably felt he couldn't provide for her, but we don't know for sure." Mac replied "Melissa was a straight-A student throughout school and won a scholarship to Oxford University before she graduated high school. She studied Arts Law and graduated with top marks in June last year."

"When she was kidnapped." Soap said.

"Yes. We believe Makarov waited for the opportune time, while they were together in the same place with a lot of distractions. Aleksey arrived in London the week before and attended the ceremony. That was the last place either of them were seen before they left."

"Why would he bother to go to the trouble in the first place? Why are they so important?" Soap asked, motioning to their pictures.

"Makarov probably felt that his father had abandoned him and that his half-sister got all the attention he should have. Jealousy is always a good motive." The phone on the table rang and Mac picked it up "Yes?" he was silent as the person on the other end of the line spoke "Yes, thank you, we'll be right there." He put down the receiver "The father's awake."

"So, she escaped, huh?" Aleksey snorted and rolled his eyes "Ursa always was a slippery one. Is Melissa awake?"

"Not yet." MacMillan replied. Aleksey looked at Price.

"Rumour has it you killed my son."

"I did the world a favour." Price said.

"I agree." Silence met him "Vladimir may have been half of me, but he was always a troublesome one. I knew he wouldn't live long, on the path he was taking. I wasn't surprised to hear of his affiliation with the Ultranationalists. His greed was stronger than his patriotism."

"What did you do when you found out?" Soap asked. The old man ran a hand over his unruly beard.

"I confronted him, asked him if what I heard from Ursa was true. He didn't deny anything. He spouted off this ridiculous propaganda that was written by fools. I disinherited him for joining people who use violence as a way of persuasion. I should have known that decision would come back to haunt me later." He sighed. "I tried to be a good father to him, I really did. But Ursa was the devil on his shoulder that I couldn't silence. I broke ties with them and moved to America, where I met Jane."

"What was she like?" MacMillan asked.

"I was forty, she was twenty-six, but age is but a number. She was the love of my life. Even though we never married, we were happy together. She was such a free spirit. She was always laughing." Aleksey chuckled at the memories "When she told me she was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I had another chance to right my wrongs. Melissa was born and I fell in love again." Aleksey then looked sad. "I was taking Melissa out on a stroll when she died. The gas bottle blew up in the house, Jane didn't stand a chance."

"Was the fire suspicious?" Price questioned.

"The police said no, but I wasn't so sure. But I told myself I was just being paranoid." Price and MacMillan glanced at each other. "Melissa's custody was handed over to Jane's parents. I was disappointed, but not surprised. I was constantly travelling and a baby needed security. I visited every chance I could. But not even Levi could protect my daughter from my past mistakes."

"Makarov found her." MacMillan supplied.

"Yes. I told him to stay away, but to no avail. Melissa never told me what he said to her, but I'm positive he was trying to recruit her."

"Excuse me, Commander MacMillan." A nurse said at the door "Melissa Morton is awake." Aleksey perked up.

"Take me, I need to see her!" he pleaded. MacMillan shook his head.

"The doctor says you need rest. I'll arrange something as soon as I'm able."

"Melissa, it's good to see you awake." The young woman's eyes turned to the door as they walked in. Soap paused for a second. She wasn't as pale, but the light in the room highlighted her bruises. There was a nasty one over her brow, the right of her jaw, as well as a couple others he could see on her arms. Most were old and faded, but a couple looked recent. MacMillan smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I used to be." She eyed Soap and Price.

"This is Captain Price and Captain MacTavish. They rescued you and your father from Germany." The young woman looked them over, analysing them. Soap held her gaze when she got to him. Her hazel eyes were mesmerizing.

"Well then, thank you. Both of you." she smiled. Then she looked at MacMillan again "My father -"

"Is fine, but he's in worse shape than you. Your grandparents are on the way, they'll be landing here this afternoon."

"Where is "here" exactly?" Melissa questioned.

"SAS headquarters, England. Safest place you could be."

"Can I ask you something?" Melissa looked uncertain, creases forming on her pretty face.

"Anything." Mac said reassuringly.

"Is it true? He's really gone? Vladimir didn't just fake his death or anything?"

"It's true, thanks to Captain Price." Mac motioned to his former protégé "He's never going to hurt you again." Melissa sighed in relief.

"Thank God." She sighed. "What about Ursa?"

"She left before we got there." Price said. Melissa's face hardened.

"What's wrong?" Soap asked. She shook her head.

"Vladimir didn't do all this to be." She motioned to her bruises after a moment of silence "Ursa did." The men didn't speak "She would come into my room, screaming, out of her mind. She hit me everywhere. Vladimir only laid his hands on me once or twice. Most of the time he just degraded me. Called me names, said I was worthless; anything to make me feel bad. But she…she was a tyrant." Melissa wiped a tear away.

"We can do this later." Mac said gently, patting her shoulder. "Let's go boys." Soap followed them out, but took one last glance back. Melissa was watching him.

1520 hours, hospital wing

Nurses were nearly run over as Major-General Levi Morton and his wife Mona rushed down the halls towards their granddaughter's room. The reunion was teary and emotional, or so Soap could see from the doorway. The general was a distinguished man in his seventies, but had the fitness of a drill sergeant. He was wearing military dress and his hair and beard were perfectly combed. His wife was a little roly-poly, but she was the stereotypical kind of grandmother who looked like she would make cookies before the grandkids came over. After crushing her Melissa in a hug, she arranged the peach roses she brought in a vase on the bedside table. Melissa smiled at them and Soap couldn't help but smile either. She seemed to have some effect on him, and it confused him a little. She shook his head to get rid of the silly thoughts and walked off.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days later, SAS headquarters

Soap strode through the gardens to the barracks so he could get some rest. He had another meeting with his superiors a couple of minutes ago. They had no definitive whereabouts on Ursa or Lenin Kosolov, they were in the wind. There would be no more missions until there was more reliable intel. Nikolai was searching his channels, but so far they had come up empty. Soap took a glance across the yard and stopped, doing a double-take. Melissa was sitting on a bench in the warm sun, her legs stretched in front of her and her face tilted towards the sky with a smile on her face. Soap ignored the voice in his head that was telling him to walk away and did the complete opposite, changing his direction and walking towards her. Melissa's long, honey brown hair was loose around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face. She was wearing dark blue jeans, sneakers, a grey, loose fitting jumper and a pair of Ray-Bans. She didn't look like the traumatized, semi-conscious victim he and Price had rescued a couple of days ago. She looked like a normal 24-year-old girl. Soap looked behind her and saw a guard at the door to the gardens, most likely assigned to follow her.

"This seat taken?" he asked at the side of the bench. Melissa looked up at him and she immediately gave him a big smile, showing off her pearly while teeth. She must have had her eyes closed and didn't see him coming. Soap noticed she was wearing makeup to cover the bruises on her face.

"I was wondering when I'd see you again!" she laughed, sitting up properly. "No, please." She gestured to the empty spot. Soap sat down next to her. "Captain MacTavish, right?"

"Call me Soap." He said without thinking.

"Okay, Soap."

"Where're your grandparents? I didn't think they'd let you out of their sight."

"Most likely arguing with your superiors somewhere. Commander MacMillan and a couple of generals want to interview me some more, but Grandpa wants to take me home to Arizona."

"What about your father?"

"Dad's still too beaten up to leave the hospital yet, but he can't be hurting too much because he's demanding vodka." That made Soap chuckle. "I think I'll stay."

"Why? If your grandfather wants to take you home you can't refuse him." Soap pointed out. Melissa sighed.

"Well, I feel obligated. You need leads on my brother's assets and I can't exactly leave Dad alone. If you need the information I have, I'll give it to you. Anything to clean up the mess the Ultranationalists made."

"How did they get the jump on you in London?" After asking Soap immediately wanted to kick himself. Melissa bit her lip. "I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, don't be." Melissa shook her head. "If I'm going to tell someone, it might as well be you." there was a pause. "I'm warning you now; it's not a pretty story. It was after my graduation from Oxford. Dad and I were going back to the dorms so I could change but…when we got there…it was terrible…there was so much blood…"

"What happened?" Soap asked gently. He wanted to reach out to her but forced his hand to keep still.

"My best friend, Renee, she was lying there…dead…on the floor…Vladimir was there, standing over her." Soap felt his blood begin to boil. "He told me that this was the cost of war, losing your friends. Dad tried to make him leave, but…nothing he said worked. That's the last thing I remember, they must have hit me with a tranquilizer or something. Next thing I know I'm in this chamber of horrors, it's dark and terrifying and all sorts of bad. I spent three months in that castle before Dad and I were moved again." Melissa looked at him. "I never really thanked you, Soap. For saving me."

"It's nothing."

"It's not!" she insisted, facing him "I thought I was going to die without ever seeing the light of day again! But you got me out of there..." Soap was cut off from what he was about to say when the guard interrupted.

"Miss Morton, the generals are requesting you." he said behind them.

"I'll let you go." Soap got up and walked away quickly, trying to supress the feelings simmering to the surface. Melissa was making his male chemistry react left, right and sideways. And he hadn't exactly had any satisfying female company in a while. "You need to get some action MacTavish." He grumbled to himself.

"I still don't like it." General Morton huffed in his gravelly voice as he and Mona walked with Melissa to Aleksey's room in the hospital.

"Grandpa, it's just them asking me questions, not a war tribunal." Melissa tried not to roll her eyes.

"It might as well be." Mona pointed out, but her granddaughter said nothing. Melissa went back to thinking about Soap, allowing her legs to unconsciously carry her to her destination. He was hot, by any standard. That badass look, his hair, his eyes, his body; he had everything in the book he needed to land any girl he wanted. But she couldn't help noticing he seemed a little eager to leave when the guard interrupted them earlier. Maybe she was just paranoid. After all, being held hostage by your murdering, psychotic half-brother didn't leave a lot of time for dating.

"Anyway princess, how's about we go to the range after this? You and me, see who can get the best shot." Levi suggested, bringing Melissa back to reality.

"Sure Grandpa, but I need some practice." She smiled. "Just be prepared to get your butt kicked, all the same."

"There's my girl."

Shooting range, 1300 hours

"Price, what are you doing here?" Soap asked, walking up to his mentor. To his surprise, MacMillan was with him, as were several other soldiers. They were all watching something on the range, some appreciatively, some in awe, others shocked and in between.

"I came here to practice when I came across this. It only just started." He gestured to the front. Soap pushed a soldier out of the way and was surprised by what he saw. Melissa and her grandfather were reloading their M9's and aiming at the targets. Soap watched as they pulled their triggers, a volley of shots echoing around the range. Melissa looked totally focused, she handled that gun like any seasoned SAS veteran. When they were finished, the paper targets reeled in and both had holes smack bang in the middle. A burst of applause started and Melissa took out her earplugs. MacMillan looked impressed.

"Now that's a bloody good shot." He said appreciatively "The apple doesn't fall far."

"See princess? You don't need any practice." Levi teased.

Four days later, War room, 1430 hours

"Now, Melissa, this is where you spent most of your time as a hostage?" MacMillan brought up a picture of an impressive castle covered in snow on the view screen. MacMillan, Soap, Price, a few generals and General Morton were in the war room to question Melissa about her time with Makarov. The young woman nodded at the picture.

"That's Chateau de Marseille, also known as the Chateau de Surgele, "The Frozen Chateau". I spent my first three months there before I was regularly moved."

"We believe Ursa has retreated there with Kosolov. If we're going to have an advantage, we need the layout of the inside of the building. What can you tell us?"

"That it's hell, well, the place I was in. But I was taken out occasionally. Ursa has a room all to herself, still fit out in the Renaissance style, here." She pointed to one of the chateau windows on the top floor. "Security was always tight when she was there, Vladimir took no chances. But I never saw Kosolov."

"Do they have a control room somewhere?"

"In one of the top spires, here." She pointed to the east spire "I remember because I looked up in that direction one time to see all these computer screens through the window. They also have big ammunitions catches somewhere; I overheard the guards one time."

"Are there any secret entrances around the place?" Price asked.

"Records from a book I read at Oxford say that the first owner of the castle dug an underground tunnel so that he could escape approaching enemies, but no-one's ever found it. However, I did hear a guard say he felt a draught in the wine cellar."

"So?" Price shrugged, a little unimpressed.

"The cellar is underground, on the other side of the castle. There can't be a draught because it's supposed to be covered with solid brick."

"Unless there's a ghost living in there." MacMillan said, standing from his hunched position over the table. "It's our best lead, for now."

"Commander, I have a request." Melissa said, looking at MacMillan.

"Alright then my dear, request away." Mac smiled a little. Soap looked at Melissa, wondering what she was going to ask.

"If you believe Ursa is really at the chateau, then…I want to go on the mission." There was silence, before a general burst out laughing. Soap blinked, trying to process her words. But when he looked at her face, he saw she wasn't joking.

"Shut up!" Levi yelled at the laughing general, who was trying to recover. "Melissa, you don't know what you're saying -"

"Yes Grandpa, I do." Melissa snapped, glaring at the other generals across the room. Her stare was venomous enough to stop any kind of laughter.

"Melissa, you know I can't allow that -" Mac started.

"Armed forces all over the world have used civilians on their teams before. This wouldn't be any different." Melissa interrupted, daring Mac to challenge her. "What can I do to convince you I'm capable?" Mac met her stare, and she didn't waver.

"Commander, you can't seriously be considering this." Levi said. "My granddaughter is a victim of this war!"

"Grandpa, please!" Melissa looked over her shoulder at him, her face clearly saying "shut up". "You sent me to the army for several summers and you trained me yourself. You know I'm capable."

"There's no doubt in my mind about your physical condition princess, but your mental one may not be so tough. You've been locked up as a prisoner for seven months and went through all kinds of hell!"

"Commander MacMillan, please. Don't dismiss me yet. Just give me a chance." Melissa pleaded. The room was in a tense silence as MacMillan mulled the words over.

"You know the castle best, so you would be an asset. But your health concerns me, by what your grandfather said." Soap watched as Melissa's face fell a little. "Obstacle course, thirty minutes." There was a shocked murmur as MacMillan left the room, Price following. Soap quickly found his wits and left with them. The last thing he saw was Melissa smile victoriously.

Obstacle course, 1500 hours

Soap barely recognised Melissa when she walked through the door. She was wearing full gear, black, and her long hair was tied up high on her head. Her face was devoid of makeup, showing her yellowing bruises. Levi was standing with her, making sure her vest was tightened. Nikolai was there with them, having been called by Price to witness the event. Soap thought back to his first day in the SAS. He was twenty-four, just like her, eager to prove himself and ready to face anything. He still couldn't believe MacMillan was going through with this. For some reason, Soap was hoping she would lose, so that she wouldn't hurt herself. But he knew that she would take anything they threw at her. And then some.

"Okay lass, here are the rules." MacMillan started "If you pass our tests, I'll see about putting you on the team as a civilian liaison for this mission. But if not, we forget about this and move on, deal?"

"Deal." Melissa agreed, nodding once.

"Alright. The course is timed; the shortest record has been three minutes, nineteen seconds. Once you complete this, we move onto the next stage."


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, French airspace, 1800 hours

Soap glanced at Melissa again in the chopper. He was still pinching himself, not believing that she was actually there with him. Much to other people's amazement (and chagrin), she had blazed through MacMillan's tests, and, true to the commanders word, was put on the team for the mission, given the codename "Siren" (for her pretty face, MacMillan had said). It looked like all the training she had endured finally paid off. Her identity was kept secret from the other task members, mainly to protect her. Only Soap, Price and the people who questioned her knew who she really was. To the others, she was once a prisoner of Makarov's that had gathered reliable intel and was needed for this mission. She was wearing the same winter gear as they were, her hair once again tied up and there was black camouflage paint on her face, much like Soap's. The helicopter landed and the crew of ten bailed out into the forest, with the castle being five clicks to the north. Soap stuck close to Melissa, as did Price. General Morton ordered them to keep her safe, threatening to "cut their balls off" if she was hurt again. They were halfway to the castle when there was a yelp and the sound of the ground giving way. Price rushed over to the hole in the ground and peered in.

"Brick? Where are you?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"I think I found that secret tunnel." The black man groaned, his voice echoing out of the ground. There was a sudden burst of light when Brick lit a flare. "It looks like the coast is clear sir! The walls are lined with foundation!"

"Okay chaps, and chapette, let's go. If Siren's story was correct, this tunnel should lead to the wine cellar." Price said, sliding down the hole. Soap coughed as he stood up after sliding down. The tunnel was lined with bricks, creating an arch shape. The smell was musty and there was dust everywhere. That's what you get for not using it for 400 years. After walking for a few clicks, the team stopped. A brick wall was blocking their way. "Soap, plant the charges." Price ordered. Soap came up and placed the breach bomb on the door, pulling the detonator out of his vest. "Ready?" Price asked. There were nods all around, but Soap could tell the question was aimed at Melissa. She nodded too. "Do it." Price said, and Soap pressed the button. The bricks crumbled, and Price quickly shot the two drunken guards on the other side. The bodies were hidden behind the wine barrels and Price started. "Okay lads, our mission is to take Ursa Makarov and Lenin Kosolov alive, if they are here. However, the use of deadly force is authorised. We also need to get to the control room; we need more evidence against the Ultranationalists. Split up into groups of two, and if anyone comes at you with a gun, shoot them. Clear?"

"Yes sir." There was an echo in the cellar.

"Siren, you're with me and Soap." Melissa nodded. "We need you to take us to Ursa's room."

"Done." She replied.

"Move out!" Price commanded.

Soap swore as the bullets whizzed around him. The guards had caught onto the intruders quickly and began hunting them down. One man was already dead. He saw Price hiding behind the opposite wall, and he lost sight of Melissa. He quickly stood and fired in random directions, hoping to catch a hostile. He saw one enemy running towards him, and was about to shoot him down, when a bullet caught the man's shoulder, sending him to the ground. Soap looked up to see Melissa on the walkway above. She was acting as a sniper, taking down enemies that were dangerously close to them. Soap felt a bolt of heat run through his body.

"Not now you idiot!" he thought, focusing back to the fight.

Price used a small mirror to peer around the corner. Two guards were outside a wooden door, standing attentive. They must have heard the gunshots coming from the courtyard. Price turned back to Soap and held two fingers up. Melissa was sandwiched between them. Price signalled and he and Soap rounded the corner, shooting the guards. Melissa came out and ran behind them to the door, which Price kicked open. When they entered, Ursa wasn't there. But a skinny man with wire glasses and thinning hair was. The moment Price forced the door open he was hiding next to the large, double poster bed.

"Don't shoot!" Melissa cried, causing them to hold fire. The men looked at her questioningly "That's Klein Urbawitz, Ursa's personal doctor."

"Personal doctor?" Soap echoed as the man slowly stood.

"Miss Morton, I did not believe you were still alive!" Klein said in a heavy Polish accent, making his way over, until Soap and Price aimed their guns at him. Klein immediately held his hands up, visibly quaking.

"He's no threat guys. Klein couldn't hurt a fly." Melissa protested.

"Check him." Price said. Soap lowered his weapon and walked over to the skinny man, patting him down.

"He's clean." Soap said. "Where's Ursa Makarov and Lenin Kosolov?" he demanded.

"Gone. They left two hours ago." Klein said, backing up to the bed and sitting on it.

"If you're Ursa's personal doctor, then you must know where she's gone." Price reasoned. Klein shook his head.

"She was in a great hurry. She only told me that a helicopter would take me to another location tomorrow morning. I was packing her medications when you burst in." as Klein was saying this, Soap was going through the toiletries bag on the bed.

"Anti-depressants, sleeping pills, Amoxicillin, all the drugs you need to treat a maniac." He reported. Klein focused on Melissa again.

"I thought you had been executed, like all the other liabilities. As well as your father."

"These guys saved me." Melissa smiled. Klein allowed himself to do the same, his lips twitching upward.

"How well do you know him?" Price asked, turning to Melissa.

"He treated me after Ursa beat the crap out of me. He was the only one that was ever nice to me." Melissa answered.

"Did Ursa know?"

"Yeah. Why else do you think he started in the first place?"

"To preserve the entertainment, that's what she told me." Klein spat. Soap raised a brow.

"Something tells me you're not the happiest employee." Klein shook his head.

"How did you end up in Makarov's service?" Price questioned.

"Several years ago, I was working at a local hospital in Austria. Ursa was one of my patients. She was suffering from glandular fever. I treated her… and that's how I got the attention of Vladimir Makarov."

"What happened?"

"I was attacked in my house, a few days after Ursa was discharged from the hospital. I don't know how long I was unconscious, but when I woke, Vladimir Makarov was standing before me. He said I worked for him now, and that his health and that of his mother was my only concern. I heard rumours about him, so I refused to help. When I said that, he brought a little girl, no more than six years old, into my room. He shot her right before my eyes." He took off his glasses to wipe the tears away. "I had no choice. He told me that every day when I didn't co-operate, the same thing would happen again. So, I accepted."

"How noble." Price didn't sound very convinced.

"Wait." Melissa held up her hand. Everybody was silent. The sound of boots coming down the hallway was clear.

"Time to go." Price said, grabbing Klein by the collar and pulling him along. Soap shot the security that was coming and they ran out, Price yelling at Nikolai over the com for evacuation.

The next day, Guest Quarters, 0900 hours

Soap knocked on the door, and entered when he heard a "come in". Melissa looked surprised to see him, getting off her bed and putting down her book. She had reverted back to a normal girl. Her hair was loose, and she was wearing figure hugging black jeans with a grey top, the long sleeves rolled up to her mid-forearms.

"Soap? What are you doing here?"

"To see how you were doing." He replied, regretting his decision to come as each second passed. "You did well on the mission."

"Thanks." She smiled unconvincingly. "I'm fine, but -"

"You were hoping Ursa would be there." Soap finished. Melissa shrugged.

"Would that be so wrong?"

"No, it wouldn't. I noticed that your aim was off." Melissa looked confused "You didn't kill anyone."

"So what if I didn't? Am I less of a person for it? I didn't want to kill anybody." Soap looked Melissa over. She was small, compared to his physique. She was a head and a half shorter than him, and looked delicate. If he wasn't careful, he would break her. It was too tempting to think of all the things he could do to her, starting with pushing her up against the wall and kissing her. He tried to push the thoughts away. She was twenty-four to his thirty, and she was the half-sister of the most hated man in the world. Granted, she was a victim, but they wouldn't be able to make it work. Plus, from what she had just said, she was too good for him. He took lives. She could have, but chose not to. Melissa looked him in the eyes. Her hazel irises were deep.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, stepping closer. Soap inched back and she frowned "Why are you really here?" Damn, she was onto him. "Soap?"

"I'll see you later." He turned to make a quick exit when her small hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Stop! Please!" she pleaded, her voice cracking. Soap wanted to wince. He really hoped she wasn't going to cry. One of the things he hated most was seeing a girl cry. He looked down at her to see a thousand emotions run across her face. "Why are you trying to get away from me?" she cried. Soap cursed. Of all the women he had to get attracted to, it had to be this one.

"It's complicated." Was all he said.

"That's a load of bull." She said, dropping his hand. "It's only going to be complicated if you make it." She took a deep breath. "I don't want you to go."

"Why?" he demanded.

"I like you, okay?" she threw her hands up. "You're everything I want but can't have! You make me feel like the safest girl in the world! I've wanted to be with you since I first got a proper look at you! That good enough for you?" she turned away from him to look out the window, expecting him to walk out the door. But Soap was rooted to the floor. Her confession stunned him. She felt for him. He wanted to kick himself. She was offering him everything he wanted, but he couldn't bring himself to be sensible and turn her down. Instead, for once, he decided to be the fool.

"If your family finds out about this they're going to kick my ass." Melissa turned to ask him what the hell he was talking about but was silenced when he pulled her small body to his muscular frame and kissed her heatedly. She reacted immediately, relishing in his attention, running her small hands around his torso. Soap felt his blood rush south and broke the kiss so that he wouldn't get carried away. "This could be a very bad idea."

"Maybe." She said before he kissed her again.

Gym, 1200 hours

Price walked in to see Soap beating the living crap out of the punching bag, wearing only his cargo pants and boots. His torso glistened with sweat, as did his face.

"Why are you punishing the punching bag so much?" he asked, puffing on his cigar. Soap stopped and steadied the bag.

"No reason." His protégé replied, untying the bandages around his hands.

"Soap, of all the things you are, a liar isn't one of them." Soap sighed. He knew Price could see right through him. "It's about the girl, isn't it?" Price smirked when he saw Soap's blue eyes flick towards him. "It's okay son, you're only human."

"You're not going to say a relationship is forbidden? That she's only going to compromise me?"

"No, I don't think there is much I can say. I've seen the way you look at her. But you do need to be careful; there is a definite chance that Melissa will come on other missions with us."

"So what do I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do Soap. If you like her, then go for it. But just be mindful of where you step. If certain people catch wind of this, they'll try to use it to their advantage. And I don't think some of our superiors will be pleased."

"Melissa's a civilian; they can't do anything to her."

"But they can certainly do things to you. Keep it under wraps, until the state of things has calmed down." Soap nodded. Price puffed his cigar some more, smoke blowing out of his mouth. "You'll be able to be more public with her someday."

"John! There you are!" Price turned to see his wife at the door "Come on, lunch is waiting!"

"Coming dear!" Soap smirked a little. Price was whipped. "I see the look you're pulling." Soap straightened his face and Price clapped his shoulder before leaving. Soap grabbed his towel from the nearby bench and walked towards the showers. While he was under the warm water, Soap thought back to what Price said. He was right. He needed to keep things with Melissa a secret for now. And he couldn't go as far as he wanted to with her just yet. She was still vulnerable after her imprisonment and was still a little distrusting of men. Plus, who knows what would happen if the wrong people found out? But he had feelings for her that he hadn't felt in a long time. He wanted to protect her, to have her all to himself, to hold her close and never let go.

Soap found her in one of the main computer labs, with the interactive screen. The screen itself looked like a large slab of glass that was hung from the ceiling. She was using the remote like a pro. From what Soap could see, the picture was a 3D blueprint of the chateau from the night before. Melissa turned around and smiled at him.

"Hey."

"Hey. What are you doing?"

"This is so awesome. Commander MacMillan granted me access to the Animatronic Systems Computer. They use this exact computer system in forensic institutes and museums!"

"And you know how to work it?" he asked, looking at the flat, transparent touch tablet remote in her hands. Melissa nodded.

"I majored in art and computer science at Oxford. I used this system to make facial reconstructions and re-create crime scenes. This computer can do anything."

"You look like a kid in a candy store." He smirked at her happy face.

"Being able to use this is like Christmas for me. I called the one I used at Oxford the Melissamatron." She laughed at Soap's raised brow. "Stupid, I know, but I loved it!" Soap shook his head in disbelief.

"What are you working on?"

"Since most of the techs are out in the field, Commander MacMillan asked me to go through the computer files from the chateau, since I have the next to most experience."

"What are you looking for?"

"Ursa and Kosolov's next possible whereabouts. Hopefully they put something in the computers we confiscated that will give it away, but MacMillan is still counting on the spies the SAS has in the Ultranationalists ranks. They've heard nothing so far."

"I'll leave you to it." Soap was about to walk away but Melissa said –

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Soap smirked and bent down to kiss her.


	8. Chapter 8

Two days later, Computer lab, 0830 hours

"Miss Morton, any luck on the computers?" MacMillan asked as he walked in. Melissa shook her head.

"There are no mentions of Kosolov and Ursa's new locations; however, I did find something that might make you happy." She tapped a few buttons and a map of the world came up. "The Ultranationalists email chatter has been through the roof after Vladimir died. The computer we confiscated from France has some interesting material. Most of the emails have been deleted, but with gravedigger software, I was able to track the most recent from Ursa's computer."

"How did you manage that?" MacMillan asked, gobsmacked.

"Laptops have to connect to a local server, otherwise you won't be able to send emails or access the internet. Ursa's laptop connected to the TI line in the chateau an hour before she left. This is her most recent email." Melissa brought up an email that was sent three hours before the SAS invasion. It was all in Russian.

"What does it say?"

"Prepare the safe house, I need time to think." She translated, looking up at the old man. "I was able to track the addressee's email." A map of the world was brought up and the computer zeroed onto a location "A Ronan Yoshevsky in Tel Aviv, Israel. Does that ring any bells?"

"No, but if Ursa sent her an email about a safe house, that's where we're going." MacMillan gave Melissa a big kiss on the cheek "Excellent work poppet! You're absolutely brilliant!"

"It's nice to feel appreciated." Melissa smiled. "So, do I get to go?"

Tel Aviv, Israel, 1900 hours

Soap squinted at the house through his binoculars. It wasn't too far off from the main city, but it was enough to be on its own. He could hear goats bleating from another house not too far over and he heard Brick grumble next to him –

"I don't get paid enough for this." Soap resisted the urge to cuff him over the head. They were hiding under a bush that was on the edge of a hill, above the house. Soap was obviously doing better at ignoring the branches that were poking into his ribs. He switched to thermal vision and he saw one person moving around inside.

"Soap, you see what I see?" Price asked over the comm. He was with Melissa and another trooper, West, closer to the house, on level ground.

"Aye, one person. Male, by the looks of him."

"Kosolov?" Brick asked.

"No, he's too skinny. Kosolov's the size of the turkey you eat on Christmas Day." Soap said, putting the binoculars away.

"I'm picking up chatter in the house, but it's too distorted. I don't think Ursa or Kosolov are here."

"If not here, then where?" Melissa sounded impatient and Soap smirked a little.

"Let's ask the gent inside." Price responded. "Soap, Brick, move out."

"Yes sir." Brick answered, shimmying out of the foliage. They slid down the hill and quietly ran to the back door.

"Breach in three, two, one!" Price yelled. Soap burst through the door. The man was taken by surprise and immediately went for the gun on the table, but Price shot his leg from his position at the front door. The man went down and Brick and West pulled him up, throwing him into a chair and tying him up.

"Where's Lenin Kosolov?" Price demanded. The man in the chair looked at him as Soap walked to Price's and Melissa's side. He saw the man wasn't really a man, just a kid. Eighteen by the looks of it. This time instead of surprised, he was looking scared. "Speak!" the young man rambled something in Russian. Soap didn't catch what he said; his Russian was a little rusty.

"He's asking who we are." Melissa translated. Price stomped over and pushed his foot down on the guy's bullet wound, which made him howl in pain.

"Where is Kosolov? Where's Ursa Makarov?" the young man spoke again through gritted teeth. "English you idiot!" another ramble.

"He says he can't remember his English because you shot it out of him." Melissa used her hand to cover her snort. Price snarled and pressed harder. The man yelled out in what sounded like a plead for mercy.

"He says he's Ronan's assistant!" Melissa yelled over the cries "And that he'll be back any minute!" Price stepped off the wound.

"Then maybe he'll be of more use to us. Patch him up." Brick dug into his pockets, grabbing some gauze. Soap watched as Melissa approached the young man and began speaking to him in a soft voice. Price walked over to Soap.

"If Ronan's due back, we need to act fast." He said.

"What are we going to do?"

"Trap the rat."

Ronan Yoshevsky groaned, his head pounding. He remembered that he had walked through the door to see his assistant, Boris, bound and gagged, and rushing to help him before he was hit with something. Something heavy.

"Wakey wakey sleeping beauty." He heard a man's voice. English accent. Ronan opened his eyes to see Price looming over him, with Soap standing not too far off. Brick and West were guarding the doors while Melissa stood near Soap. "You got an email from Ursa Makarov several days ago. Where is she?"

"I'm not going to tell you. And there's no way you're going to make me." Ronan spat, his words slow because his mind was still groggy. "The Ultranationalists will either take Europe, or destroy it."

"The war's over. There will be not "taking" of any kind." Price narrowed his eyes. Then he grabbed Ronan's short hair and yanked, causing the man to grunt. "Where is Ursa and Kosolov?" he asked again, his voice dangerously low. Soap knew that tone. It meant that someone was going to die, very soon. Yorshevsky chuckled, infuriating Price further. He released his hold and stepped back, drawing his gun and aiming it at Ronan's head.

"Jamaica!" Boris cried out. The taskforce members looked at him, taken aback. He had been as silent as a scared mouse until now. "Ursa and Lenin are in Jamaica!" Price grinned, but didn't lower his gun. Soap knew what was coming and pulled Melissa into his arms, turning his back to Price and holding her tightly, her head against his chest. The second he turned the gun went off and Boris screamed. Soap felt Melissa freeze, her hands digging into his shirt. Then she started shaking.

"Leave him." Price ordered as Brick went for Boris. He shared a knowing look with Soap and walked out the door, the others not too far behind.

The next day, 1200 hours

Soap knocked on the door and entered at Melissa's call. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped at what he saw. There was a suitcase on Melissa's bed, and by the looks of it, she was almost done packing. She placed the t-shirt she was holding on the top and walked over to him.

"I was going to find you after I finished." She said, looking a little guilty.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking down at her. Melissa shrugged.

"Grandpa's taking me back to Arizona. Tomorrow night." Soap felt a sudden heavy weight on his chest. It must have shown on his face because Melissa said "Believe me, it not like I wanna go."

"Why?" was all he could seem to articulate.

"After seven months in captivity, I need to go home for a while. Or so he said."

"For how long?"

"I argued the terms with him. I'll be back in three weeks." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Actually, there's something else." Soap felt weary and braced himself for the oncoming rejection. "Commander MacMillan has offered me a position here!" Melissa's face cracked into a big smile. Soap blinked before the words really sank in. Then he felt himself smile too. He couldn't help it. Then he came back to reality. He really hoped it wasn't a taskforce position. He didn't want her to be in danger.

"What position is that?"

"A forensic artist! Well, that's a basic description. But, I'll be given my own office, an Animatronic computer, and quarters of my own here on base!" Soap felt relieved. No immediate field work was in the job description. "But, that's not the only reason why I want to accept it."

"What other reasons then?" he questioned, raising a brow. Melissa's face became serious.

"I want to stay with you." she said, looking down a little, as if she were ashamed. "I want us to be together, for real. No hiding, no secrets behind people's backs."

"You'd leave your life behind in America for me?" Soap asked in disbelief. It was music to his ears. It was almost too good to be true. Melissa nodded.

"I'm all grown up now; it's a new chapter in my life. And sometimes, new chapters mean changes." She looked up at him "I really like you, Soap. But if you feel differently, tell me now."

"Never. I'll never not feel for you." Soap took Melissa's face in his hands and stared her in the eyes "Ever since you walked into my life there's been something here. And I want to keep it." He leaned down and kissed her, pouring his feelings into it. Soap felt the happiest he had been in a long time. He finally had that one thing he'd been missing. That someone special his mother was always talking about. He felt complete as she wound her arms around his well-built torso. Things were finally looking up.

Computer room, 1330 hours

"I got the radio chatter Captain Price intercepted and was able to clear it up." Melissa said to Price, MacMillan, Soap, and the other taskforce members who would be going on the next mission. A box appeared in the screen and the sound played out, but it was white noise.

"That's the cleared up version?" one of the soldiers asked incredulously. Melissa shook her head.

"Patience, young grasshopper." She teased, tapping a few buttons on the remote. "That is the "before" version. Now, I was able to isolate the different frequencies, separate the layers and scrub the background." The noise split into three lines on the screen and a clear voice came out. It was a female voice, speaking in Russian "It's Ursa."

"She's saying that they're waiting for a package to arrive, and that it's three days late." Nikolai translated. He was standing with Price and Soap.

"There's more. I was able to retrieve something from the background." Melissa tapped another button on the touch screen and a male voice in an obvious Jamaican accent was calling out –

"Mangoes! Get your mangoes here! The best in Kingston!"

"She's in Kingston." Price stated. Melissa nodded.

"If I could hazard a guess, she's most likely hiding out in the slums. It's the best place to hide, since people keep their lips sealed. It was a major place to ship arms through during the war, because the government had no official checkpoints there." Melissa said.

"Very well done poppet, I knew we could count on you." MacMillan complimented. He then turned to the others. "You move out tomorrow afternoon, so rest up. You lads know the drill. Take them alive."

Two hours later…

Soap placed the weights back on the stand and wiped his face with his towel, ignoring the appreciative female stares from the other side of the room. It wasn't uncommon, but what he once enjoyed was now annoying since he was committed to someone else. Soap chugged down his water and thought back to Melissa. Her heart shaped face, her hazel eyes, long, light brown hair, perfect lips, perfect figure; she was perfect everything. Soap had only known her for two weeks and he couldn't find anything wrong with her. She was kind, considerate, smart, funny, everything that he needed to balance him out. But Soap was worried that he was moving too fast. That she didn't know enough about him, and vice versa. Was he really ready for another relationship? He hadn't been with another woman properly in who knows how long. And plus, Melissa was only rescued two weeks before. Was she ready? Soap selfishly hoped so. He hadn't taken it too far yet, much to his frustration, because he was worried he would scare her away. Just thinking about his lack of action was already about to make him explode. Soap shook his head and walked to the showers.

2230 hours…

Melissa was about to dress for bed when there was a knock on her door. She cocked her brow in confusion, wondering who would be visiting this late.

"Who is it?" she called out, walking to the door.

"It's me." She smiled at the rough Scottish voice and opened the door. Soap walked in, smiling at her.

"What are you doing here? I thought you need to rest up for the mission tomorrow." Melissa asked, frowning a little.

"I wanted to see you." he peered at her face. "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing!" Melissa tried to smooth her face over, but Soap clearly saw the aggravated expression. She sighed, knowing he couldn't be fooled. "I wish I was going with you. I'm a little pissed that I wasn't allowed to go."

"You can't, unless you want your grandfather grounding you for life." He smirked as she rolled her eyes.

"He could try." Her expression then turned sour "It's just not fair."

"I'm glad you're not going." Melissa's head snapped up to him so fast Soap thought she would break her neck.

"What?" she said venomously. If looks could kill, Soap would be dead. Forget bullets, Price had once told him, a woman's death glare's enough to send you to the grave.

"Melissa, it's too dangerous. There are God knows how many people loyal to the Ultranationalists in those slums! You could get killed!" he pointed out.

"That hasn't stopped me from going before John!"

"No, it hasn't. But maybe I don't want you to go because I don't want you to get hurt! Did you stop to consider that?" Melissa was silent. She had no comebacks for that. She shook her head.

"You're right." She said quietly. "It's just…is it so bad, that I want to get back at Ursa for what she did to me? To my dad?"

"If you didn't you'd make one hell of a Buddhist." That made her laugh. "Next time." She nodded and Soap brought her face up to kiss her. She immediately responded and clutched him tightly while his arms slithered around her. She moaned as he kissed down her neck, over her pulse, a definite weak spot. Soap pushed her against the wall and kissed her again. Damn to caution. Her small body pressed against his was perfect, small to large, hard to soft. She tugged at his shirt and Soap was only too happy to oblige to her wants.


	9. Chapter 9

0530 hours…

Soap woke with a start, his internal alarm going off, telling him to wake up and go to the gym to train. He grumbled and pushed his face back into the pillow, adjusting his arm around Melissa's waist. Wait a minute. Soap's eyes snapped open. He didn't move, his eyes roaming around the room. He relaxed at its familiarity. He smiled and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her. Melissa was sleeping soundly, her smaller arm lying over his, only a sheet covering her nudity. Soap remembered the events from the night before and felt his male pride swell, along with other things. He kissed her shoulder, and then went upwards over her collarbone and neck until he reached her face. By then Melissa was stirring, a smile on her face. She cracked an eye open and rolled on her back, Soap never stopping.

"Now this is a wake-up call." She said before he kissed her, pressing his naked body onto hers. She slithered her arms around his torso, pulling him closer. They parted once the need for air became prominent. "That was amazing." She sighed.

"I'd like to think it was." Soap grinned before kissing her again. Melissa moaned, her nails raking over his skin of his back. Soap felt a shiver, then a bolt of heat run through his body. He ran his calloused hands over her smooth skin, sliding one down her leg and pulling it up next to his hip.

"Uh, I wish I didn't have to leave." She complained as he went for her neck again.

"Then let's make the most of this." He suggested, his hot breath running over her ear.

"I like the sound of that." She finished with a moan as he ravished her.

0730 hours…

"You seem upset, my friend." Nikolai sat down at the table. Soap was picking at his eggs before spooning another mouthful. Price was with his wife somewhere, and told Soap he would meet him later.

"You take a course in therapy or something?" Soap asked sarcastically before going for his coffee. Nikolai smiled and shook his head.

"You like Miss Morton, yes?" Soap's eyes darted towards him. "She is a nice girl; I can see why you fell for her."

"Hold your horses; I'm not in love with her." Soap warned.

"No, but you can be. I knew a girl who was just like Melissa. Her name was Anya. She was a nurse in the Loyalist cause. She was smart, educated and beautiful. We were engaged to be married."

"What happened?"

"She was in Belarus, patching up some of the soldiers that had been injured in a recent mission. A bomb went off in the safe house where she was located. She died instantly. That was six years ago." Soap was silent, not knowing what to say. "I never forgave myself for not going with her. But I was badly injured from another assignment and was unable to go anywhere. I feared for her safety, and rightfully so." Nikolai looked at Soap, his eyes swimming with emotions from the memories. Soap could see they pained him. "She was the love of my life, like Melissa will be for you. Never let her go, Soap. Or die trying."

1200 hours…

"Hey!" Melissa smiled at Soap as he walked into her room. "You want to go get lunch or something?"

"I can't, I have to go get prepped for the mission." Soap said, feeling a little guilty "I just came to say goodbye, since you won't be here when I get back."

"Oh." Soap could see her disappointment and pulled her into his arms for a hug, pressing his nose into her sweet smelling hair. Melissa clutched to him tightly. "Be careful out there."

"I will." He promised, pulling away a little so he could lean down and press his lips against hers. Nikolai's story about Anya replayed in Soap's head. He was right about Soap's feelings. Soap didn't think he could classify his feeling as "love" yet, but they were sure as hell close.

"I'll miss you." she said after they parted, her eyes watering a little. Soap wished that he was facing an army of vicious militants right now, anything except his girl crying.

"Three weeks will breeze by; you'll be back before you know it." He said, trying to reassure her. Melissa's lips twitched upwards a little. "I'll miss you too."

"Good luck John." She said. Soap smiled and kissed her again, trying to make it last longer before he was forced to walk out her door.

Slums, Jamaica, 2350 hours…

Soap watched the streets below as Price inhaled his cigar smoke. The team of six was scattered around the slums, waiting for Ursa and Lenin to make their moves.

"You looked a little down on the way here, son." Price said, looking at his protégé. Soap glanced back at him but said nothing. "Melissa left for Arizona today, didn't she?"

"She'll be back in three weeks." Soap replied.

"And you'll be counting down the minutes until then." Price said in a-matter-of-fact fashion. "I know the feeling."

"How do you make it work, with your wife? You're away all the time, aren't you?" Soap asked, still keeping his eyes to the street. Price sighed.

"I miss a few birthdays, anniversaries, and she graciously forgives me. Not that I deserve it in the least. We've been together for seventeen years. That's a lot of forgiveness. But she knows the score, how important my job is. She never questions." Soap was itching for a cigar himself as the smoke wafted around the room "You'll find your own way with Melissa, Soap. Trust me."

"Alpha One, we have movement, over." The radio crackled to life. Price answered –

"Beta One, copy. What's the situation?"

"It looks like they're packing up to leave, sir. There are at least ten heat signatures."

"Roger that." Price grabbed his rifle. "Let's go."

Morton estate, Arizona, 0900 hours…

"Wake up Melissa!" Melissa groaned as the curtains were flung back, the obtrusive sunlight spilling into her room. She opened her eyes to see Lorraine, her old nanny, pick up a tray from the corner table and bring it over to the bed. Lorraine was an older French woman in her fifties, and was hired by her grandparents to help look after her after they adopted her. Lorraine was pretty for her age. She was slim, had strawberry blond hair in a bun, and was wearing a jumper and jeans. She still worked around the house, even as Melissa got too old to have a nanny.

"I thought we could have breakfast in bed together, like we used to!" she smiled, placing the tray down. Melissa inhaled the smell of fresh coffee and croissants. A platter of strawberries sat next to the pastries, looking very ripe and red.

"I missed your cooking Lorraine." Melissa smiled, grabbing the coffee mug closest to her. Lorraine placed the food on two separate trays.

"I hope that's not all you missed." She said, smiling teasingly. Melissa shook her head. It was great to be home. "Something troubles you, my pet?" other emotions must have been showing on her face. Lorraine could see right through her.

"Well…I… met this guy…" she started cautiously.

"Aw, young love." Lorraine sighed with a smile on her face, looking off into the distance. "I remember the fun I had when I was your age." She looked at Melissa. "Tell me about him."

Back in Jamaica…

Soap shot at the helicopter until his gun was out of ammo. But by then it had already flown off too far. Soap swore loudly. It had been a fire fight back there, but Ursa and Lenin were too quick, and 141 had lost two people. All for nothing. They had burst into the building, but Makarov's mother and the Ultranationalist leader were already halfway to the helicopter. Soap remembered dodging bullets as Ursa fired at them with startling accuracy. She was laughing the whole way, like the whole chase was some big joke. Soap was wondering how he was going to explain this to his superiors, and to Melissa. Price placed a hand on Soap's shoulder.

"Next time." Was all he said.


	10. Chapter 10

Two weeks later, Hereford, UK

Soap punched the punching bag again with a new ferocity. Ever since Jamaica, there had been no word about Ursa or Kosolov. They had disappeared again, thanks to their many connections. 141 didn't even find the package Lenin and Ursa wanted so desperately. It was most likely transported away with them. Soap could only hope that they would slip up and give themselves away. But Soap had stopped thinking about that and Melissa's face popped into his mind. He missed her. Ever since their last night together, he had been craving her more and more with each passing day. One more week, he told himself as he untied the bandages around his hands.

Arizona, 1000 hours

"Now Melissa, I just have to say I'm very proud of you." Dr Alessandra Ford said in her chair across from Melissa's chaise. After Melissa had returned, her grandfather had ordered her to go straight to therapy after her seven month ordeal. "Most of your anger and depression has disappeared. I'd say we've achieved some major breakthroughs."

"Thanks doc." Melissa smiled. She liked Dr Ford. She was an Army therapist, who specialised in post-traumatic stress treatment. Melissa didn't even know how bad her emotions were until she laid down in the chaise for the first time. There had been a lot screaming, crying and other things of that nature. She had been going three times a week, and gradually, her condition got better. Dr Ford took off her glasses.

"Now, let's talk about your future. From what you told me earlier, you're moving to England?"

"Yes."

"To work for the SAS?" she asked.

"Yep. I head out next week."

"How does your family feel?"

"My grandparents are supportive, but I know they want me to stay here. My uncle is really happy for me. Lorraine wants to go with me." She chuckled.

"I see, well, that all sounds normal. Are you excited?"

"Yeah, are you kidding? I can't wait!" Melissa beamed.

"That's good! Really good. Tell me about what you'll be doing."

"I'll be working as a forensic artist slash technician, as Commander MacMillan told me. I'll have this big office, my own house on base, and the pay's not too bad either."

"Any other reasons? What about this "John" you were telling me about earlier?" Melissa's smile subsided a little.

"I miss him. A lot."

"What would you say your feelings are for him?" Ford questioned, leaning in a little. Melissa sighed.

"I really, really like him. He's hard as a rock on the outside but sweet on the inside. He's big and strong and such a badass – I'm a sucker for the bad boys." That made Dr Ford laugh. "I hope that he feels as much for me as I do for him."

"Do you see yourselves having a future together?" Melissa looked thoughtful, staring up at the ceiling.

"I want one. That's for sure."

Hereford, seven days later, 1600 hours…

"What are you still doing here?" Price demanded as he walked into Soap's quarters. The younger man looked up at him from his journal.

"What're you going on about old man?" he asked, cocking a brow. He had been sketching a bunch of new recruits that he had helped train earlier that day. They were all muddy, bloody, and beaten by the end of it all.

"The plane arrived half an hour ago!" Soap felt his heart stop.

"What? It wasn't due for another hour!" he exclaimed, springing up from his chair at his desk.

"Well, they're early! Come on, I know where Melissa's been assigned." Soap ran after Price through the hallways, nearly mowing down a few new recruits, a doctor and a lieutenant. They got to the garage and jumped into an empty jeep. Price turned the keys and the engine roared to life. They got to the civilian houses in five minutes. It was a separate section of the base, with streets of normal looking single-storey houses. Many officer's families lived there to stay close to their husbands, wives or significant others. There was a school not too far away, in the town of Hereford. The base was on the outskirts, and was at least 15 minutes away. Price screeched the jeep to a halt outside a house in the second street, with the number "204" on the letterbox and the door. There were boxes of various sizes in the doorway, as most of Melissa's stuff had arrived before she did. Soap felt his heart race as he stepped out of the car. "I'll let you go; I have to meet Trish at our own place. See you tonight." Soap nodded and Price drove off. From what he heard, Trisha Price had moved into the civilian housing as well, after trying and succeeding to convince her husband. Soap smirked. Price could face an entire army and not be fazed, but when it came to his wife, he was as whipped as a cadet. Soap snapped back to reality and took a deep breath, taking slow steps towards the house and walking through the front door. The hall was clear, but the living room was filled with boxes. A large shelf that went from the floor to the ceiling had been assembled against the far wall, and a leather couch sat a few inches away. There was already a coffee table and a TV on a cabinet set up in front of it. The table had a large book on it. The title read "Art Through the Ages". Soap looked up to the kitchen. There was a wooden dining table with six chairs, and the kitchen, as much as he could see of it over the counter, gleamed with stainless steel appliances. Soap heard footsteps coming down the hallway from further up the house and his breath hitched when he saw his girlfriend. She looked up from her mail and froze, her eyes wide. Her hair was in a messy bun, her face was made up and she was wearing a blue and white striped top with black jeans. Soap thought she looked absolutely beautiful. All of a sudden, her face broke into a grin and she dropped the letters in her hands, running towards him. Soap caught her as she jumped at him, her legs locking around his waist and his arms secured around her torso. She laughed as she clung to him and Soap breathed in the scent of her perfume. She was finally back. He set her down and kissed her heatedly, running his large hands down her body until they finally rested above her butt. They parted and she sighed, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his upper body.

"I missed you." she whispered.

"Me too." Was all he said, resting his chin on the top of her head. Life was good.

"You don't have a lot of stuff." Soap noted, pulling out another book and placing it on the shelf "My mother hoards everything."

"Well, I just brought the stuff I really wanted. I told Grandma to give the stuff I left behind to charity." Melissa replied, ripping another box open "Ah ha! Found them!"

"What?" Soap questioned, looking in her direction. Melissa pulled out a rectangular leather pouch. Curious, Soap walked over as she stood up. She handed the pouch to him.

"A gift from my grandfather." She smiled. Soap raised a brow and opened the top flap. Inside there were four hand-rolled cigars. Soap's lips quirked a little and he pulled one out, holding it to his nose. They smelt great. "Dona Marla's. Cuban, hand rolled, all the fancy stuff. Grandpa loves them. Just don't smoke them around me, I hate cigarettes." She frowned a little before bending down and pulling another pouch out.

"Why is your grandfather giving me this?"

"Because you and Price saved me. He thought that deserved a reward. These are for Price." She waved the other pouch. Soap took them and put both of them in his pants pocket. He would give Price his gift later. "And this was for me, but I was hoping we could share." Soap laughed as she pulled out a bottle of scotch.

"It's like you're a Mary Poppins for contraband." He chuckled and she rolled her eyes.

"Keep making comments like that and maybe I won't share." She teased, walking into the kitchen to get some glasses.

Soap left the house an hour later, much to his chagrin, but promised to be back for dinner. He felt pleasant warmth wash over him as he walked back to the barracks. Melissa was finally back, and he couldn't be happier. Soap never thought he would be able to afford a relationship, especially after the events of the year before. But it was finally happening. Soap looked at his watch. 5.30pm. He had to meet Price to train before going to dinner.

"Ah, Dona Marla's. I've heard good things about these beauties." Price sighed in contentment after whiffing the cigar. Soap gulped down some water. "General Morton has taste." He looked at Soap, who was wiping his face off. "You're glad that she's back?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Soap questioned, grabbing his shirt from the bench.

"No reason." Price said, taking his own towel.

"What's the time?" Soap asked. Price looked at his watch.

"1830 hours."

"Shit! I promised to be back at her place by seven!" Soap swore, running out of the gym. Price chucked as his protégé gunned for the door, with several women watching him run out appreciatively. Oh, if only they knew. Then he remembered. He had to get home by seven, too. Otherwise Trisha was going to kill him for being late to dinner.

Soap walked into the house at 1901 hours. Melissa was resting two dishes across from each other on the table. She was wearing a black jacket over a yellow dress. She looked up and smiled at him.

"Hey." She greeted as he walked over. Soap bent down to give her a quick kiss before eyeing the plates, his hand resting on her back.

"What's this?"

"Have you gone so long without a proper meal that you forget what a home cooked dinner looks like?" she teased before going into the kitchen. "Take a seat, I'll be out in a minute!" she called. Soap went around to the other side of the table and sat down. There was a thick piece of beef, roast potatoes, carrots, peas and a side of gravy. Soap heard his stomach grumble. This was a man's meal alright. Melissa came out with a bottle of water and sat down.

"This looks great." Soap complimented, picking up his knife and fork.

"Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks." She smiled before taking to her own meal. Soap dug into the beef. It was great. It was spicy and juicy.

"You know how to cook." He nodded before having another mouthful.

"Thanks." Melissa looked embarrassed. "Being raised by a career housewife helped my cooking skills." For the next hour, they ate and talked, about her being back in America and him on his missions. Soap could see himself doing this for a while. She laughed and he couldn't help but smile. For once, he let himself go. Not worrying about when Ursa would strike next, or having to wake up early the next day. It was just him and her.

Melissa's office, two days later, 1000 hours

Melissa sipped her coffee as she ran a sound analysis on a piece of audio retrieved by an SAS spy in an Ultranationalist stronghold. Ever since she arrived she had hit the ground running, but she loved it. A huge office/lab to herself, the best technology money could buy; and the badass boyfriend every woman would want. Soap visited her once a day to have lunch, when he wasn't training or in meetings. He had slept at her place for the past two days, not wanting to go back to his own quarters. Melissa smiled. She had him all to herself once the door was closed, and the things he did to her… let's just say his vigorousness wasn't restricted to battle. She shivered at the memories and switched to the news while the analysis was going. There was a reporter in London, standing in front of Buckingham Palace with a mask on to prevent gas inhalation.

"…and the authorities say that it will take another two months to scrub up the chemicals from the attacks. The Queen and other members of the royal family have visited various refuge settlements outside London to visit the victims of the gas attacks last year. Onto other news now, NATO and the United Nations have called upon various countries to co-operate in the attempt to bring down the last of the Ultranationalist regime, with various figures still at large, including -" the reporter didn't get to finish before there was a huge explosion, bringing down the cameraman and setting everything alight. Melissa dropped her mug and it smashed onto the floor. All she could do was stare as the camera image slowly went vertical, the cameraman getting to his feet, showing huge flames licking the Palace gates and various people. She quickly got her wits back and ran to her desk.

"We received word from another contact that Ursa and Lenin are planning something big." MacMillan said to Soap and Price, who were sitting from across the desk.

"How big?" Price asked. MacMillan opened his mouth to answer when his phone screeched to life.

"Commander MacMillan! Are you there?" Soap froze. It was Melissa on the speaker.

"Yes poppet, what is it?" MacMillan asked, sounding a little agitated by being interrupted.

"Are you watching the news right now?"

"No, why?"

"Turn on to Channel 13!" MacMillan took the remote on his desk and turned on the TV. A scene of horror and carnage greeted the men's eyes. Body parts, people dead or half dead walking around, fire everywhere. "That happened just a few seconds ago!"

"Looks like the Ultranationalists have made their next move." Price stated.


	11. Chapter 11

War room, Hereford, 1045 hours

"It's not just London lads, and ladette." MacMillan said to the men and Melissa assembled in the room "Cities all over Europe have reported these attacks. France, Germany, Spain, Italy; everywhere. Melissa was able to finish cleaning up the audio sent in from one of our contacts in Lenin's guard." He nodded to Melissa and she tapped the Animatronic computer remote, bringing up the sound file. Two males were conversing in Russian "This is Lenin talking to one of his associates, ordering the bombs to be set of an hour after the transmission ended."

"Do we know where he is?" Nikolai asked. Melissa brought up the world map and zoomed in on South America.

"Colombia, but he won't stay for long. According to our man, Ursa isn't with him anymore; she left the day before."

"What's the plan?" Price demanded.

"You five will go to Colombia and bring Lenin Kosolov in. This may be our only chance before he moves again to God knows where. We won't let him get away with this." Various pictures of a shanty town in Colombia appeared on the screen "Kosolov's in the poorer districts of the city that are close to the water. If he's going to escape, he needs to get to the docks first. Get ready, you depart in three hours."

Soap walked in just as Melissa grabbed her weapon. She was in khaki cargoes, heavy duty running shoes, and a navy shirt. A desert scarf was around her neck and a vest and cap sat on the bench with the American flag on it. Her hair was done in a mermaid's braid.

"I'm still not happy that you're going." Soap said. Melissa rolled her eyes.

"MacMillan and I had a deal, it doesn't matter if you're happy or not." She snapped and Soap raised a brow.

"Are you okay?" he asked, laying a glove-covered hand on her shoulder. Melissa looked up at him and Soap could see the pain there.

"How many more people have to die, John? The war's supposed to be over; we're supposed to be re-building. But the madness never ends." She shook her head. "Thousands of innocent people, gone. The Ultranationalists won't stop until they have what they want."

"We'll get Ursa, and Kosolov, Melissa, don't worry." Melissa's lips quirked into a smile and Soap pulled her in for a hug. He was thankful that he hadn't pulled on his vest yet, otherwise holding her would have been very difficult.

Columbia, slums, 1400 hours…

Soap swatted a fly out of his face. Himself, Price and Melissa were in the slums, waiting to pounce on Kosolov. West and Brick were waiting at the docks. Melissa wrinkled her nose at the smell of the cigar smoke. Price was on his first Dona Marla, and was relishing every puff. Soap resisted a chuckle at the look on her face. He bet that she was regretting bringing the gifts from her grandfather rather quickly. He went back to looking through the binoculars. His heart sped up. There was movement, from what he could see through the windows.

"I think it's time to go." He said. Price nodded. The three stood up and slowly crept down the side abandoned house they were perched in. Price stood on one side of the flimsy wooden door while Soap stood on the other, Melissa behind him. Price nodded and kicked the door down. A skinny bald man with tanned skin screamed and shot off the stool he was sitting on, throwing his hands, one of them holding a paintbrush, into the air.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" he yelled in Spanish. "I'm just an artist!" Price looked angry.

"The intel was off, Kosolov was supposed to be here!" his eyes flicked to the quivering man and he stormed up to him "Where's Lenin Kosolov?"

"There is no-one by that name here!" the man exclaimed in English with a thick Latin American accent.

"Price." Soap called to get his mentor's attention. He was holding up a 44 calibre pistol from the table. Melissa's eyebrows rose a little in surprise.

"What kind of artist carries a weapon?" Price demanded. The man said nothing, only shaking some more in fear.

"Uh, I do." Melissa answered, raising her hand. The men looked at each other.

"Bad example." Price said, opening his mouth to ask another question when Soap said –

"Be quiet!" holding up his hand. There was silence as no-one spoke. But there were footsteps coming from the rear, and they were getting louder.

"Forgive me." The man said, tears starting to leak from his eyes "He said he would kill my wife and children!"

"Get down!" Soap shouted, throwing himself on Melissa, taking her to the ground and covering her body with his own, Price following their lead. No sooner had Soap spoken, the house was fired upon, a hail of bullets whizzing over their heads. It was too late for the artist, who was still standing. His body was torn to shreds. Melissa squeezed her eyes closed and attempted to block out the sound of the machine gun. The bricks were like paper, the bullets having no trouble piercing them. It seemed like ages, but soon enough, the firing stopped and the footsteps were retreating.

"Go after them!" Price ordered. Soap pulled his girlfriend off the floor and ran after his friend. He saw at least three men ahead of them, running much faster after they had dumped the machine guns somewhere. The last one pulled a gun out of his pants and twisted his upper body so he could fire at them. That forced the three to take shelter behind a wall. "Other way, towards the docks!" Price shouted, running through the narrow streets, buzzing with people and animals. Soap narrowly missed a kid playing soccer, a few chickens and an old woman with a basket on her head. They dodged and weaved, and soon enough, Soap heard more gunfire. He looked up as he ran to see a young man running on the rooftops, matching their speed, aiming down at them. Soap quickly aimed and took the shot, bringing him down. Kosolov isn't taking any chances, he thought. After another 400 meter run, they made it too the docks in time to see Kosolov waving at them from a yacht that was pulling away into open water, a large grin on his face. But that grin vanished and he disappeared inside the craft when Price aimed and fired. The bullets made a clanging sound when they hit the boat, but it was useless. It was too far away for any real damage to be done.

"Shit!" Soap exclaimed, knocking a small wooden crate aside, causing it to shatter on the ground from the force.

"Where the hell are Brick and West? They were supped to stop him!" Price yelled.

"I found them." Melissa said. She was on the edge of the dock, looking into the water. Soap walked over to her and looked also. The bodies of Brick and West were floating in the water, face down.

Hereford, Melissa's house, 2230 hours…

"I can't believe it." Soap said as he came out of Melissa's bathroom, wearing only his sleeping pants. "They're like cockroaches. The moment you think you have them; they scurry away into another hole."

"With the money and connections Kosolov has, it's hardly a surprise John." Melissa said from her side of the bed. Soap had been all fired up since they had returned mere hours before, sharing Price's anger at having the big bad guy slip through their fingers again. "You'll get another chance."

"But they're few and far between, Mel. MacMillan said we lost six informants in one week, the Ultranationalists are catching on. How are we ever going to get on top of these bastards?" Soap ran a hand over his mow hawk, pacing at the end of the bed. Despite his exhaustion, he didn't feel like going to bed yet. His thoughts were keeping him awake.

"Come to bed. Please." Melissa said quietly. Soap looked at her. She was exhausted and looked pale. The mission had taken a lot out of her. Soap immediately felt guilty and sighed.

"I'm sorry, it's just…it's never a good feeling, being so close and to have them slip away."

"I know." She nodded "Come on." She patted his side and Soap relented, getting under the covers and laying down. He pulled her into his arms so she could lie close to him, her head in the crook of his neck, her hand on his chest and one leg resting on his thigh. Soap ran a large hand down her back. "Tomorrow's another day, John." He kissed her forehead and tightened his hold.

One month later, Hereford, 1500 hours

Soap didn't have to look up to see that it was Price approaching him. It was just a vibe that he got. They had gone on another mission to follow a lead on Ursa and the bomb attacks, but it turned up empty. The castle was devoid of life except for the bodies that littered the hallways. All data and hardware had been erased. A few computers had been sent to Melissa and other techs for analysis, but it was doubtful that any information would be retrievable. Ursa and Kosolov had gone to ground again after Colombia, and there hadn't been a peep since, thanks to most of the sources being discovered and neutralised.

"How're you doing?" Price asked, sitting down. Soap didn't look up from his sniper rifle, which he was cleaning.

"I'll live." He answered shortly.

"Melissa?"

"She's fine."

"You can't hold onto this Soap, we'll get them eventually, we always do." Soap didn't answer. "Come on; let's go see if she's gotten anything." Soap knew that it was an order hidden under a request. He didn't argue, he just re-assembled the rifle and put it back in the gun locker. They walked over to the building Melissa's office was in and they were just down the hall when there was a blood-curdling scream. That immediately put them into action and they ran the rest of the way. Soap threw the glass door open and saw his girlfriend on the floor, several meters away. He ran over to her and held her head.

"Melissa, Melissa! Look at me!" he commanded. Melissa's hazel eyes tore from the spot she was looking at to his face. Her face was a picture of fear, the colour from it completely drained, and she was shaking, badly. "What happened?"

"John – the – the box!" she pointed to a box that was on the table in the centre of the room. It was already opened. Soap pulled her off the floor and into his arms while Price went over to examine the box.

"Bloody hell." Was all he could say. He now understood why Melissa was scared out of her mind. Inside the box was Lenin Kosolov's severed head.

"How the bloody hell could something like this happen?" MacMillan roared at the sergeant that allowed the delivery to pass through the gates. "That package could have been a bomb!"

"Sir, it came with the rest of the deliveries. Since all packages and mail have to be screened before they enter the base, it must have been smuggled in." was all the young man could say, trying his best to appease his superior. MacMillan huffed and waved him out. The sergeant could get out of the door fast enough. Price came in as he left.

"How is she?" MacMillan asked, rubbing his temples. Price sat in one of the chairs.

"Scared, frantic. Soap's with her."

"Can't say I blame her." Mac sighed. "I'm ordering an official investigation. That box got in here somehow."

"But you know what this means?"

"Aye. With Kosolov dead, Ursa is most likely in control of the Ultranationalists. The coroner has found a note in Kosolov's mouth, signed by Ursa, saying that there's more to come. I'd bet my retirement fund that she killed him herself to get all the power over her son's legacy."

"What are we going to do?"

"Right now, there's nothing we can do, we have no intel to go on. All we can do is wait."

"Why was it sent to Melissa? I would think something as important as this would be delivered to you."

"It was addressed to the labs, as if it were a piece of intel sent from one of our contacts. Since most of our techs are in the field, Melissa was the next logical choice. Poor lass just happened to receive it by mistake."

Melissa allowed the warm water to run down her body, wishing it would wash away the images she saw faster. Kosolov's face was a picture of terror, his mouth in a silent scream and his grey eyes wide. Soap had immediately taken her home and was now waiting for her to come out of the shower. With that thought in mind she shut the water off and reached out the door to grab her towel. After drying off and dressing she went to the living room, where she saw her boyfriend sitting on the couch, watching TV. Football, by the looks of it. Soap heard her coming and shut it off, standing so he could face her. She immediately stepped into his arms and he held her tight. Melissa closed her eyes, already feeling more secure, inhaling his masculine, woody scent.

"How do you feel now?" he asked. Melissa heard the rumble in his chest as he spoke.

"I don't know. I just keep seeing his face…all that blood…it's horrible."

"I can imagine." Soap didn't know what else to say, usually it was his mother or brother that were good in the comforting department. "Mac rang, to see how you were."

"What did you say?" Melissa looked up at him.

"Just that you were scared, and a little shocked."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Melissa shook her head and stepped away from him so she could go to the kitchen, Soap not too far behind. She grabbed two glasses and the bottle of scotch from General Morton.

"You sure that's a good idea?" he asked and Melissa glared in response. That made Soap want to shrink back a little. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault." She sighed, pouring the alcohol out and handing him his glass, downing hers quickly. Soap was less hurried, knowing the liquid would burn his throat. "Why would Ursa send it to me, of all people?"

"She didn't, not on purpose." He added at her confused look. "MacMillan said it was addressed to the whole department, you just happened to be the person it went to in case it was intel."

"Why me?" Melissa groaned at the ceiling before pouring herself another glass. Soap walked over to her and set his glass on the counter, running a hand across her shoulders. Melissa sipped the second glass this time.

"Just sheer dumb luck." He answered as she finished. She put her glass down and threaded her skinny arms around his torso, trying to get the secure feeling back. Soap automatically wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. He doubted she would get much sleep tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

That night, 0230 hours…

Melissa's eyes snapped open and she gasped for air sharply, her hand flying towards her throat and her body contorting. That woke Soap up; his front was pressed against her back. He was usually a light sleeper.

"Melissa, what's wrong?" he demanded, awake immediately, getting a firm grip around her waist, which was lax before. Melissa came back down to earth and she groaned, pressing her face into her pillow. Soap couldn't make out the words she was mumbling into the pillow. "A nightmare?" he heard a muffled "uh huh" from her. "What happened?" this time there was an "uh uh" and a shake of her head in response. Soap sighed. This wasn't going to be easy if she wasn't willing to talk. He rolled Melissa over onto her back to look at her face. She looked up at the ceiling instead of him. "Look at me." He commanded and Melissa slowly turned her head to look into his piercing blue eyes. "Tell me." Soap used his best "that's an order" voice to tell her he meant business. Melissa's pretty face scrunched up, trying to hold the tears in.

"Kosolov's head, all that blood, his face…" she trailed off. Soap didn't say anything but noticed that her hand went back to her throat and was rubbing it. He took her small hand in his large one and pulled it away. He guessed that she dreamt it was her head instead of Kosolov's. He didn't blame her. She was scared. Melissa thought Ursa had deliberately sent it to her as a warning. Soap had tried to convince her otherwise, but he could tell that doubt still niggled in the back of her head.

"It's all over." He said firmly, looking into her hazel eyes. They were swimming with uncertainty. But she nodded anyway.

"I'm going to get some water." She said, rolling out from under his arm and getting up. Soap tried not to notice that she was only wearing her underwear and a singlet top, revealing her long legs. He shook his head. Not the time. He sighed and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He was very confused. He had all these feelings he hadn't experienced in a long time. Melissa was bringing out the best in him, something no woman except his mother could ever do. She made him stop thinking about the guns and bombs and death. He wanted to protect her, hold her, and love her…love. That was it. The realisation hit Soap like a tonne of bricks. He was in love with Melissa. He looked at her when she came back through the doorway. She was tired and upset. He would have wait until later.

"Try to get some rest." He said as she laid back down, replacing his arm around her waist. She nodded and drew her face closer to his for a kiss. Soap responded, deepening it a little, then she pulled back, far too early for his taste, but he wasn't about to argue. Melissa rolled onto her side and Soap moved closer so their bodies were pressed together. Melissa laid her arm over his and closed her eyes, trying to settle so she could get back to sleep.

0700 hours…

Soap ran back to Melissa's place after his morning training and showering in his quarters. She was laying out breakfast on the table when he walked in, looking refreshed from her morning shower and relaxed in her jeans and sweater. She glanced up at him and smiled before walking back into the kitchen to grab the tea.

"How was your training?" she asked as she came out with the mugs. He quickly kissed her before sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

"Training's training, nothing special." He replied as she sipped her tea. "You look better."

"Thanks." She smiled before grabbing the toast on her plate. "I wish I felt as good as I look." She sighed.

"Well, how do you feel?" he asked, pausing in the cutting of his bacon. Melissa shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Seeing what I saw…it really messed with my brain." She said, running her fingers through her light brown hair.

"Tell Mac you need the day off." He suggested but Melissa shook her head.

"I have work to do -"

"He'll understand." Soap said firmly, taking her hand across the table. She looked at him, unsure. "He'll be expecting it anyway. Someone else can do your work."

"But -"

"Melissa, please. One day." Soap squeezed her hand. Melissa chewed her lip and, after a few seconds, she sighed.

"Only because you told me to." Soap smiled. But he saw on her face that she looked relieved.

1030 hours, obstacle course

"Come on you wimps! I've seen my grandmother do better press-ups than you!" Soap smirked as he heard Price yelling at the recruits. He rounded the corner to see his mentor standing over one red-head in the front. "Faster!"

"Yes sir!" they all yelled in unison.

"Ah Soap, there you are." Price saw the younger man and walked over, but not before yelling at the recruits again. "After another twenty, hit the ropes! I don't want to see any stragglers!"

"You're drunk with power, Price." Soap teased as the older man came to his side. Price grunted.

"They're off to Credenhill on Thursday. With us." Soap looked at his superior, unable to hide the surprise on his face as the last of the recruits staggered off to the ropes. "MacMillan just told me an hour ago."

"For how long?"

"Five days, then we head out to Argentina. A surviving source has said that Ursa will be moving there soon to do something important in her schedule."

"South America's full of shady characters. No wonder the Ultranationalists like it there." Then a thought popped into Soap's head. Melissa. Her deal with Mac allowed her to go on any mission associated with Ursa and her capture. But she was still pretty shaken up over the head incident, and he certainly didn't want her around the starving recruits at Credenhill. It was hell, even without them.

"How's Melissa?" Soap's thoughts must have been scribbled on his forehead. He shook his head and walked along with Price to the ropes course slowly.

"She had a bad nightmare last night, and she wasn't feeling too good this morning. Mac's given her the day to herself. She went into town after I left."

"Poor girl; that was a nasty scare, especially given her past history with Ursa." Price sounded sympathetic. "Mac said he was going to tell her about the mission tomorrow, and he'll give her the option to drop out."

"No chance in hell she'd do that."

"I know. She's a stubborn one."

"If she does accept, will she come to Credenhill with us?" Soap prayed for the answer he wanted.

"God, I hope not. No right minded civilian, let alone a civilian woman, would go anywhere near Credenhill." Soap smiled to himself "We'll have to see, but I highly doubt it."

1600 hours

Soap pressed the weights up again, his muscles stretching and contracting as he lifted up 125 pounds. There were other soldiers in various stages of training around the warehouse-like gym, most of them men. Nikolai was a few meters away, pulling up weights of his own. Price was with MacMillan somewhere, and Soap hadn't heard from his girlfriend all day. He didn't expect to, but it was still a little worrying. He sat up and took a gulp of water, allowing his eyes to roam around the gym. There were some new recruits, some veterans and others in between. He bid Nikolai goodbye before hitting the showers. He walked out of the gym ten minutes later and walked towards the building where his quarters were when he noticed a group of troopers, six or so, were looking at something appreciatively not too far off. He look in the same direction to see…he felt like ripping the troopers heads off, but instead he stood in their view and growled –

"Leave. Now." he demanded in his most threatening voice, his eyes promising violence. The young men's faces immediately drained of colour and they stumbled away, back into the gym. Soap turned and ran to Melissa, who was oblivious to the commotion. She was wearing a slouch beanie and scarf on top of her outfit, with high heels, and was carrying a bouquet of peach roses in her arms. She gasped in surprise when Soap ran in front of her.

"I didn't even hear you." she chuckled. Soap bent down to kiss her deeply, pulling her body to his, mindful of the flowers between them. He hoped in the back of his head that those cadets were watching. They parted and he rested a muscular arm over her shoulders, walking towards her house.

"When did you get back?" he asked. Melissa glanced at her watch.

"Huh, thirty minutes ago. I must've lost track of time. I needed a walk after coming back."

"What, you didn't do enough walking in town?" he teased. Melissa giggled.

"I did plenty. But I guess I just needed to gather my thoughts here." She said, shrugging a little. They talked about their days until they got to her house, Melissa pausing to get the keys out of her pocket. Soap turned on the lights and the house brightened up immediately. Melissa pulled off her scarf and beanie and threw them on the couch before kicking off her heels and going into the kitchen to put the roses into some water. Soap stood at the entryway and watched her as she bustled around, doing at least three things at once. Pulling out pans, vegetables, meat, greens, and then she shut off the tap that filled the vase with water. She quickly unwrapped the flowers and grabbed a pair of scissors from a draw and cut off the stems, then carefully placing the blooms into the vase so she wouldn't cut herself on the thorns. She noticed him watching.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

"No, you're perfect." He replied with a small smile. She giggled a little bit before grabbing the vase and brushing past him to put it on the dining room table. She turned to go back into the kitchen but ran face first into Soap's chest instead, and he immediately wrapped his muscled arms around her. Melissa quickly caught her bearings and tried to move her arms around him but they were sandwiched between her and his body, and he gave her no room to move.

"John, you're squashing me." She said. Soap smirked a little. "I'm fine, really."

"I know." Was all he said before he put a little space between them so he could kiss her.

Melissa's bedroom; 2230 hours

Soap sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the shower running. Melissa seemed to have recovered from the incident, but he was still hesitant about her going to Argentina. Quite frankly, he didn't want her to go at all. But it was her decision, and all he could do was hope that she would turn MacMillan down. But he knew the chance of that was zero. He told her what Mac had told him and Price, and he could see the determination come back into her eyes. Then he told her about Credenhill, and that he was leaving in two days, and that seemed to shatter the little determination that had returned. They hadn't spent much time apart, if at all. He had practically spent every night for the past two and a half months in her bed instead of his own, they ate dinner and breakfast together everyday. He might as well be living with her. The idea, much to his annoyance, stayed there. His thoughts were interrupted when the bathroom door opened and Melissa emerged, in her underwear and singlet top. Her light brown hair was straight and loose around her shoulders, and her face was bare of makeup. She walked over to her bedside table and checked her clock to see if the alarm was still on. She stood up and Soap, who had snuck up around the bed (thankyou sniper training) slid his arms around her waist from behind, leaning down to kiss the smooth skin of her neck. She smelt like the roses she so often carried, and he loved it. She sighed his name as he nipped her skin.

"I love you." he said before realising. Melissa stiffened a little and Soap backed away, thinking he had gone too fast too soon. Melissa slowly turned to see her boyfriend looking a little tense; it was all over his face. But she could sense he didn't regret what he said. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her throat go dry.

"You love me?" she questioned. Soap slowly nodded, saying nothing but never breaking his gaze from her. She looked into his ice blue eyes, then at the scar over his left that gave him unbelievable sex appeal. Her gaze travelled down his face, his five o'clock stubble that suited him perfectly, his throat, the base of his neck, his chest and the scar that lay there, and his six pack abs. He was everything she ever wanted, and more. He was everything she thought she could never have after Ursa destroyed her from the inside out. Melissa had felt herself falling for him the moment she properly met him in the garden that day, which seemed like ages ago. She suddenly smiled before closing the distance between them and jumping on him, kissing him squarely on the lips. Soap immediately responded, turning them around so he could press her up against the wall, one hand in her hair and another on the small of her back, pressing their lower bodies together. After a heated moment, they parted for air and she said; "I love you too, John." Soap felt himself smile properly before attacking her lips again, pulling her away from the wall and pushing her towards the bed, throwing her down on the mattress before ridding her of her singlet top.


	13. Chapter 13

Credenhill, six days later, 0800 hours…

Major John "Soap" MacTavish glanced back at the man who would be joining him and Price as a part of the four man team. MacMillan had promoted him and Price the day before they left, saying it was well deserved. Soap couldn't agree more. After being stabbed in the chest, being labelled a fugitive and nearly dying twice, it was the least they could have. Price puffed on his cigar as he observed Lewis "Rook" Creed in the rear view mirror of the jeep. He was young, around Melissa's age, had short blond hair hidden beneath a cap, brown eyes and a small scar on his lip from a rugby tackle, or so he claimed. There were twenty men at Credenhill, not including the staff, but only Rook would be coming with them to Argentina, as he had the best score in the tests that had been given in training. Soap's thoughts had been filled about Melissa every day since he left. Her face, her smile, her body…everything. He missed her terribly ever since he left. He then knew how Price must have felt after leaving his wife so many times. They approached the plane that would be taking them to Argentina and Soap thought he was dreaming when he stepped out. Melissa was on the aircraft ramp, smiling widely at him. She was wearing similar clothes to the ones she wore in Colombia; a dark blue top, light blue pants that hugged her legs and running shoes. Her hair was back in its mermaid braid and there were a pair of Ray-Ban's hanging on her shirt. Soap fought the urge to run up to her and quickly ascended the ramp, pushing his gun aside to he could hold her properly before kissing her. Melissa placed her hands on his face and slid them down his neck, responding happily until Soap broke away before Rook could get an eyeful. Speaking of Rook, he was ascending the ramp, but stopped when he saw Melissa, his eyes widening a bit. Soap narrowed his eyes a little in warning as the sergeant ogled at his girlfriend. Rook quickly noticed and stopped staring, his face smoothing over. Melissa rolled her eyes at Soap's attitude, but smiled as she did it.

"Rook, this is Melissa, she's the fourth member of this mission." Price introduced, brushing past them.

"Ma'am." Rook nodded his head a little in greeting.

"A pleasure." Melissa said and Soap could see Rook's surprise at her accent. There were no American's in the existing Taskforce 141.

"Buckle up lads, and ladette. We have a long flight." Price said, taking a seat.

Argentina, 2045 hours…

Soap shot the snipers with his own silenced rifle and quickly moved into the next building, Melissa following. They had split up on arrival in the city. The Ultranationalists had moved fast, taking prisoners and executing people on the street, soon taking the small town as their own. The spy said that Ursa was in the local hospital, where security was heaviest. But since the numbers among the Ultranationalist ranks were slowly shrinking, the team had a better chance of getting their target. In addition, most of the forces were spread over the city, leaving Ursa vulnerable. She probably had ten men at most with her.

"Soap, do you copy?" Price said over the comm.

"Aye, what is it?" Soap whispered, glancing out of the window of the restaurant they were hiding in. There were bodies everywhere, the result of the soldiers killing off potential witnesses. He saw Melissa's sad eyes as she looked at the body of a woman not too far from them, lying in a pool of her own blood.

"Some of the soldiers are leaving the hospital from the east entrance; you can probably get in from there."

"Roger that." Soap froze, hearing a voice speaking Russian a few meters away. He went down to the floor, Melissa following. The Ultranationalists were searching for survivors. Soap was confident they could leave the restaurant without being seen, given that it was dark and they had changed into black gear when night had fallen. "Be careful." He said to Melissa, who nodded. He slowly crawled forward, towards the door, but stopped at the sound of a dog barking and running up at the window. The soldier and his teammate in the restaurant went up and berated the handler for a few seconds before heading off in the other direction. Soap got his hand off his gun and crawled forward again, but stopped once more when he saw the two soldiers poking at a man slumped against a table. The man let out a groan and one of them shot him in the head in response. Soap glanced back. Melissa looked horrified, her hand over her mouth to stop any sound from coming out. "There's nothing we can do for him now. Come on, we need to get to the hospital." He turned back and crawled to the door, slowly getting up and running out to the alley across the street. Once he was sure Melissa was close they cut through the houses, evading more patrols along the way. Eventually, they made it to the hospital gardens, taking cover behind some flowery bushes. There were a few men at the door of the east entrance. Soap lined up his shots and fired, sending them to the ground. He quickly ran up and they pulled the bodies into the lake. They then quietly ran to the doors and Soap looked at Melissa once more, his hand on her shoulder. "Are you ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be." She tried to smile, but it didn't come out so well. Soap brushed his hand across her cheek in reassurance before checking his gun. They quickly slid into the building and made their way up the corridor, towards the surgery wing, where Ursa was supposed to be. Soap took out soldiers patrolling along the way and hid the bodies in various rooms. They were one floor below the wing when there was the sound of gunfire.

"Soap, Soap, we've been blown!" Price yelled over the comm "The Ultranationalists found the bodies! Shit! Ursa's getting away! The soldiers are carrying her to the roof!" that got Soap going. He immediately started to sprint, running down hallways and shooting at anything that got in his way. He heard Melissa take a few shots behind him as a few came up from the rear. They ran up the next stairwell and made it to the roof, Soap ridding the scene of Ursa's guards. They were all over the place. Soap saw Price moving in from the west roof entrance, and soon all the guards were gone, but so was Ursa. The helicopter was flying away.

"Damn it!" Melissa screamed, running a gloved hand through her hair, glaring at the helicopter that was soon shrinking on the horizon.

The doctor was dead, as were his assistants. They were all sprawled out on the floor, blood pooling around them, in their surgery scrubs.

"Looks like Ursa was getting some major work done." Melissa said as they came out. She had raided the chief surgeon's office and succeeded in finding Ursa's file. "According to this, she ordered a complete facial re-construction."

"She was changing her appearance." Rook said. Melissa nodded.

"That would make it harder for anyone to find her. It's just as good as going off the grid if you can hide in plain sight." Price said. "But by the looks of the theatre, we might have interrupted them mid-procedure."

"So they didn't finish her surgery." Soap stated. Price nodded "The Ultranationalists saw us coming and shot the people who were working on Ursa so they couldn't give us any intel."

"They would have been shot anyway." Price said.

"According to the chief surgeon's computer, her room is just down the hall from here." Melissa turned and walked "Maybe she left something." Ursa's room was down the hall and around the corner, room 3.13. It was dark, until Melissa switched the light on. The room was practically untouched.

"She was in such a hurry she left her clothes." Rook said, opening the closet. Melissa went to the bedside table and picked something up. Soap came up behind her and saw it was a locket. It was an oval shaped pendant with an engraving of a dove on the front. Melissa opened the locket and tensed up.

"What the...?" she trailed off, turning around to face him.

"What's wrong?" Soap looked at the picture inside. There was a vaguely familiar woman, lying in a bed and smiling, holding a baby in her arms.

"That's…my mother." Melissa said, looking up at him. Her face was crossed between scared and confused. "And me…oh my God."

"Melissa?"

"Oh no, oh no no no no!" she groaned, fisting her hands at her temples.

"Okay, Melissa, calm down." Soap raised his voice over hers and grabbed her shoulders. "What's wrong?" Melissa took a deep breath, trying to ease her anxiety.

"My dad told me about a locket that he gave to my mother for their first anniversary together. She wore it all the time, and put a picture of her and me in it after I was born." She looked down at the picture "After she died, Dad looked for it everywhere in the house, but he couldn't find it in the damage. Mom wasn't wearing it when she died, so he assumed it was destroyed in the fire." She shook her head "Why does Ursa have this?" Soap didn't say anything, neither did Price or Rook. Soap had a very good idea, but it was too horrible to say out aloud. He could tell by the look on Price's face that they shared the same thoughts. "Ursa…murdered my mother!"

Safe house, Argentina, 0010 hours…

Soap woke up suddenly and felt around. Melissa wasn't next to him. His red flag went up but he relaxed a little when he saw her silhouette at the window. When they got to the safe house she immediately went off on her own to one of the bedrooms, and she was silent the whole way there. Soap knew better than to follow her. She only came back for dinner before going to bed. She was still awake when Soap arrived, but he said nothing, knowing that he couldn't find the right thing to say to help her. He just laid down and Melissa rolled onto her other side so she could rest her head on his chest, still saying nothing.

"Why are you awake?" he asked, pushing himself off the bed and walking to her. The moonlight illuminated her face as she looked out the window.

"Too many thoughts." She said, looking up at him.

"You want to talk about it?" Soap offered. Melissa sighed.

"I don't even know where to start." She shook her head.

"How do you feel?"

"Everything. How would you feel if you just found out your mother was murdered?"

"Angry -"

"Not just that!" Melissa suddenly exploded, her eyes wild and her face contorted in rage, her arms flying out "Anger, and pain, and sadness, and everything in between! All my life, I thought my mother had died in a house fire! Now I find out that Ursa killed her and covered her tracks! Why else would she have that locket? What am I supposed to tell Dad? Why did she kill my mother? She didn't have to die!" Soap grabbed her arms to stop her from hitting something and she struggled, screaming at him to let her go, swearing and crying. But Soap stood his ground, knowing that she was no match against his strength. After a few seconds Melissa stopped struggling and swearing, breaking down into tears and allowing Soap to pull her against his chest, feeling helpless and vulnerable. Soap held her tightly and looked up to see Price standing at the door, watching. The older man looked down and walked away.

Hereford, the next day, 1600 hours

"Oh dear God." General Morton said, running a hand through his silvery hair "Are you sure it's Jane's?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm sorry General." MacMillan said. He was in a secure conference room, speaking with General Morton via video comm. Morton let out a heavy sigh, and MacMillan thought that he looked like a tired old man.

"My granddaughter?"

"She's not coping well, I'm afraid. I'm sending her to a counsellor, but I doubt she can recover quickly, this has really upset her."

"I can understand her pain, Commander. I believed that my daughter died in an accident, only to be told now that she was murdered. Ursa Makarov has taken another member of my family from me."

"She will be brought to justice for what she has done, General."

"You had my full confidence Commander, but then Ursa slipped away from you every time you went out to capture her. My patience is waning." His tone became angry.

"I can understand your anger and frustration, General, but our sources are being unearthed and eliminated, therefore making it hard for us to find her."

"I doubt you can understand my anger! Find Ursa, Commander!" Morton then made a cut-off motion to someone off screen and the transmission terminated.

Soap quietly closed the door to the house and walked through. He saw a bottle of vodka on the table, almost half empty, and a glass smashed on the floor. That alarmed him and he ran to Melissa's room, throwing the door open. Melissa was sprawled on her bed, face down. Soap was next to her in four strides and checked for life. There was a slow pulse and she was breathing like she was sleeping. She had been drunk and must have stumbled into bed. Soap sighed in relief and stood, taking in her appearance. They had come back on the base only a few hours before and Soap was immediately taken to MacMillan for debriefing, but Melissa had run off. She looked dishevelled, her hair was messy and there were tear streaks down her face. She was wearing a tank top and jeans. Soap noted that the air conditioning was warm, like it always was, if not a little warmer. Melissa hated the cold and always had the temperature up in her office and the house. Soap went back to the kitchen and cleaned up the broken glass, also putting the vodka away. He had to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't crash and burn. Soap suddenly felt tired, the weight of exhaustion finally resting on his shoulders. He took off his boots and went back to the bedroom, taking Melissa into his arms and kissing her forehead before closing his eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

Hereford, 0700 hours, Melissa's house…

Melissa woke up slowly and groaned, her hands flying to her head. Yep, hangover. She grumbled but stopped when she smelt bacon. Curious, she got up, slowly as to avoid more brain-squeezing pain, and walked to the living room. There were two plates of breakfast on the table; bacon, eggs, toast and tea. Soap walked out of the kitchen and looked surprised to see her.

"You slept for 13 hours straight." He informed her, walking over and running a large hand over her face, resting it on her neck. "How do you feel?"

"Like I have the world's worst hangover." She chuckled.

"Well, you did go through half a bottle of Smirnoff." Soap said, smiling a little. At least she was laughing again. Melissa's eyes widened.

"I did what? Oh God." She groaned, smacking her forehead.

"I think you learned your lesson." Soap said at her reaction. Melissa peered around him to the table.

"You cooked?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Yep." Soap nodded, looking a little proud of himself.

"Without burning anything? Or nearly setting my kitchen on fire?" she referred to the last time he tried, only for the food to go up in flames.

"Yes, just sit down." He said, guiding her to the table and pulling out a chair for her.

Melissa's office, 0930 hours

"What are you doing here?" MacMillan asked at the door, a little surprised. Melissa glanced back at him from the Animatronic screen.

"Good to see you too, Mac." She deadpanned, tapping some more buttons. MacMillan walked in.

"You know what I mean Melissa." He said, standing next to her.

"I want to take my mind off things, and if I want to help catch Ursa, getting drunk in my house isn't the way to do it." Melissa said. Mac didn't reply. She was right, in some aspects, but he was still uncomfortable with her going back to work so soon after a major emotional blow. Melissa looked up at him. "I know what you're thinking Mac, but please, let me do this. For my mother." Mac sighed.

"Alright, but you're still going to a counsellor. No arguments. Your father is coming to see how you are, he'll be here tomorrow morning."

"Really?"

"He insisted. Plus, he wants to see the locket for himself."

"I imagined he would." Melissa went back to the screen.

"What are you working on?"

"Since Ursa underwent a facial re-construction, I'm going to use the information from the doctor's notes to re-produce what she would look like now. Rook also retrieved the tapes from the theatre for me, so we can see how far they operated before we interrupted them."

"So it's possible that she still looks a bit like herself?"

"Yes. Facial re-construction surgeries take at least nine hours to complete. According to the tapes, the chief surgeon started the operation at 1 pm."

"And you came in at around 2100 hours. So that's eight. How much work could they have not done?"

"The tape's still going, but I'll let you know as soon as I've finished the re-construction."

1200 hours, mess hall…

Melissa chewed on her salad and chased the tomato around with her fork. Soap wasn't able to join her this time, he was training another group of recruits that had gotten out of the last selection trails before they went to Credenhill.

"May I join you?" a male voice with an obvious accent asked. She looked up to see Nikolai smiling at her.

"Sure." She nodded and he sat down.

"No man with you today huh?" he asked before eating a forkful of mashed potatoes. Melissa shook her head.

"He's out on the training ground breaking in the last new recruits."

"Yes, I was just with him before I came here. He wanted me to see how you were." Melissa gulped down her food.

"I'm okay."

"I'm sorry, about your mother. The Ultranationalists have taken many loved ones away." Melissa looked at Nikolai again. He appeared sincere. She smiled.

"Thanks. I know that Ursa will get hers, someday."

"You are a brave woman, Melissa. Your family must be proud."

"I hope they are." Melissa tuned into a conversation going on behind her as she saw two troopers sitting down out of the corner of her eye.

"Did you hear? There's been a big accident at the training ground!" Melissa's heart skipped a beat but she kept listening.

"Kind of. What happened?"

"One of the new recruits accidently set of a mine trap in one of the killing houses!"

"Bloody hell! Was anyone killed?"

"No, but there were some pretty nasty injuries. Major MacTavish won't be happy once he gets out of the infirmary." Before she knew what she was doing, Melissa sprung out of her seat and ran out of the mess hall, ignoring Nikolai's calls. She ran around everyone in the halls and corridors and the outdoors, not stopping her run until she reached the hospital building. She ran up to one of the nurses and asked for her boyfriend. The nurse pointed her in the right direction, to the floor above, and Melissa was there in thirty seconds and pushed the door open. Soap was sitting on the bed, shirtless, with a doctor behind him holding a pair of tweezers and a steel dish. They were the only people in the room.

"Miss, you can't be here." The doctor said, pausing his work.

"No, she's fine." Soap replied. Melissa was in front of him in two strides, stepping between his legs and kissing him, her hands on his knees.

"Are you okay? I just heard what happened in the mess hall." she asked, a little breathless from running.

"What did you hear?" he asked, running his hands down her arms.

"That a mine in one of the killing houses went off, and that you were injured."

"Yeah, that would be about right." He grunted "One of the recruits accidently triggered the trap and it sent debris everywhere. I got a healthy lot of glass in my back."

"You'll be fine Major." The doctor assured, grabbing some gauze after setting the dish down "So long as you don't sleep on your back for a couple of nights." That made Melissa sigh in relief. The doctor was done after patching on the gauze and he gave the two some privacy. Soap stood and grabbed his shirt.

"I'm really glad you're okay. I was worried." She said. Soap pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently, Melissa running her hands down his bare back.

"It won't happen again." He assured her, separating so he could put on his shirt.

"I love you." Soap looked into Melissa's eyes. She seemed to be alright, she didn't look as sad anymore.

"I love you too." He replied before kissing her once more.

Melissa's house, the next morning, 1000 hours…

Melissa thought her father looked like a defeated old man. He had shaved off the beard and had his hair cut, but his face sagged as he looked at the locket, his age lines becoming more apparent. He had arrived only ten minutes before, and Melissa had taken Aleksey to her house immediately. Soap was with Price somewhere, understanding that this was something she needed to do on her own. Aleksey sighed, running his thumb over the picture of Jane.

"I remember ordering this from the jeweller. Your mother loved it." He kept staring at the picture. "I should have known that fire wasn't an accident. I thought I saw Ursa in the crowd, afterwards, but I told myself that I was hallucinating."

"You couldn't have known Dad." Aleksey turned his head to look at her.

"But I should have. I had a duty to protect your mother and I failed." He sank further into the couch. "I am sorry you found out this way, Melissa. You must have gone through hell."

"Kind of. I still would be if it wasn't for John." Aleksey raised a brow in interest.

"How long have you been together?"

"Almost three months."

"And are you happy?" Melissa nodded, which made him smile.

"Good. Everyone needs a person they can fall upon, like Jane was for me." Aleksey looked sad again.

"Ursa will pay for what she's done, Dad. I promise." Aleksey smiled and placed his hand on his daughter's cheek.

"You make me proud, Melissa. I have faith in you."

That night, 1900 hours, Soap's quarters…

"Come in." Soap called, figuring it was Price and continuing sketching in his journal.

"Hey." Soap immediately looked up to see Melissa closing the door. He quickly got off the bed and she walked over to him.

"Why are you here? I thought you were with your father."

"I wanted to see you. Dad told me to have a walk while he made dinner."

"How's he holding up?" Melissa took a deep breath.

"He's been better."

"And you?" she looked up into his blue eyes.

"I've been better, too. I guess I still need more time to, I don't know, get over this."

"You don't have to right away, Mel. Let yourself grieve for a while. Nobody's going to think less of you if you do."

"I know, it's just…hard." She stepped closer to Soap so she could hug him, and he wrapped his arms around her.


	15. Chapter 15

One week later, 0800 hours, Melissa's house…

Melissa slowly exited the land of nod, yawning before opening her eyes and stretching. She could hear a few things pop as she flexed her unused joints. Her room was dark, like it usually was most mornings. But it was Saturday, and she was allowed to sleep in. Melissa had to admit that she missed Arizona, waking up to the warmth and sunshine. She missed Lorraine's cooking, her grandfather's dogs, Tsar and Kaiser, her old room in her grandparent's house; she missed everything. Melissa's ear twitched when she heard the shower running and she sat up. Soap must have come back from his training. Melissa thought back to the conversation she had with her father before he left a few days earlier…

"_So, have you thought about your future?" Aleksey asked, eating another piece of chicken breast. Melissa was confused._

"_Dad, I only finished college last year, I'm living a part of my future."_

"_I mean do you see yourself staying here with the SAS as a liaison. Are you happy?"_

"_Of course! I'm doing so much here to help people! I love my job; it's what I'm good at."_

"_If you're happy, then I'm happy. But what about your relationship?" Melissa felt her guard go up._

"_What about it?" _

"_Do you see yourself staying with Major MacTavish?"_

"_Dad, if you don't like him, you can just say so."_

"_No, no, I think he's alright. But he is a soldier, my love. His job is dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."_

"_Dad, I know the risks. I love John, and he loves me. Isn't that enough?" Aleksey smiled._

"_I remember your mother making that same speech to her father when we were together." Melissa smiled with him. "You remind me of her so much."_

"_You really miss her?"_

"_Everyday." Aleksey took her hand from across the table. "I want you to have the life you deserve, Melissa. A loving husband, children, a beautiful house you can all live in. I want you to have the best."_

"_And I do with John, Dad. But we've only been together for four months. I don't want to think about kids and stuff just yet. I don't think I can afford to. Not with the way the world is."_

"_You can be selfish and think about these things, Melissa, you have the right. Every woman does at some point."_

Melissa sighed. Her father was right. She had dreamed about the wedding, and the kids, and the house. But not dogs. Soap hated dogs. She smiled mischievously at the thought she had when she tuned back into the sound of running water. She tossed the covers away and got out of bed, shedding her underwear on the way to the bathroom. She entered the steaming room as quietly as she could and tiptoed her way to the shower. She saw Soap through the glass door, his back facing her so the spray could run over his glass wounds, which had gone from red and angry to pink and healing. She opened the door, stepped in and after closing it, wrapped her arms around his torso from behind. Soap had heard her opening the door and turned his head.

"Well, this is a nice surprise." He turned around to face her and she smiled deviously.

"I thought you might need some company." She ran a fingernail down the line of his abs, making him shudder. He grabbed her hand before it could go past his belly button.

"I like your idea of company." He said in a husky voice. Before she could blink, Soap had pulled her forward so that their bodies were pressed tightly together, locking his muscular arms around her so she couldn't escape, and had bent down to kiss her greedily. Against her self-control, Melissa moaned into his mouth, melting into his frame. Soap quickly turned them around so that he could press her up against the wall, pulling her up so that they were on an even level. Melissa wrapped her legs around his waist for extra support, her hands running over his strong shoulders as Soap moved his assault to her neck. Melissa's nails scraped across his skin, her moaning out all the while, making Soap's blood boil all the more.

0830 hours…

Melissa ran her hand absentmindedly down Soap's abdomen, staring at the ceiling. Soap stoked his hand up and down her bare back and looked down at her. She seemed preoccupied.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, trying to focus on her and not the fact that her soft, naked body was pressed up against him. Melissa, propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him.

"I want you to move in." was all she said. Soap stared at her. Then he blinked. That was certainly out of the blue. Moving in together, that was a big step. He looked up at her again. She seemed nervous, her teeth biting the corner of her lower lip.

"Why?" was all he could seem to vocalize. Melissa sat up properly and smiled.

"You're here everyday, you sleep here every night, you might as well live here. So, why don't you?"

"Do you really want me to move in?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want you to, John. We've been together almost four months; I think we can take the next step." She did have a point. Ever since they started a relationship Soap had barely slept in his own quarters. He ate breakfast and dinner in the house, slept in the house, showered in the house, everything. And he loved Melissa. He wanted to be with her. Quickly, he grabbed her arms and pulled her beneath him. Melissa shrieked in surprise. Soap pinned her down and looked into her eyes.

"You have the best ideas."

"So is that a yes?" she asked hopefully. Soap paused a moment, looking at her face. What little light played across it highlighted her features. She was perfect. And all his.

"Yes." was all he said before kissing her.

Hereford town, 1200 hours

"Move in? Now that's big." Price said, taking a sip of his whisky. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, old man." Soap replied, reaching for his beer. They were at one of the local pubs in Hereford town, ten minutes away from the base. Most of the rookies had come too and were shouting at the TV, swearing at the player for not kicking straight. Others were chatting up pretty girls at the bar, hoping to score. Nikolai had left for Russia that morning and was unable to go with Price and Soap. Melissa had gone out to shop for some more clothes, not that Soap thought she needed anymore in her wardrobe. But Melissa had pointed out she still needed warmer clothes because even though it was spring time, for her it was cold. Arizona reached desert temperatures around this time of year and she missed the heat. Soap could tell she was homesick. To be truthful, he was too, just a little bit. Glasgow seemed so close but so far away. But then again, he didn't have to cross an ocean to get back home.

He had told his parents about his relationship with Melissa, much to his mother's elation. She had immediately demanded Soap take some time off so he could come home and they could meet her, but Soap had refused. At that time they had only been together for two months and he was worried about going too fast too soon. But now that they were more serious, it didn't seem like a bad idea.

"It'll be a good thing Soap. It may be scary at first, but it'll work if you're willing to put in the effort." Price said knowingly. Soap raised a brow.

"Where's this advice coming from? I didn't think you were the mushy type, Price."

"Many years of experience, son." Price said sagely, waving at the bartender for another. Soap got lost in his own thoughts. The Taskforce hadn't heard from Ursa since Argentina, and since the bomb attacks the Ultranationalists had been quiet on the action front. Since then there had been letters to the press about doomsday and the taking of Europe, but nothing else. Maybe he could take some leave. He could take Melissa to Glasgow to meet his parents and his younger brother, to show her where he was raised. That wouldn't be too selfish, would it? He laid down a few pounds on the table for his beer and bid Price goodbye. Soap wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a little happiness in the old man's eye when he left. He walked down the street towards the central district, dodging civilians and recruits along the way. He had reached the top of the street when he saw her. Melissa was talking to the elderly flower shop keeper out the front of the store several meters away, holding a bouquet of her favourite peach roses in her arms. She had her hair loose around her shoulders but her fringe was twisted into a French plait so that the wind wouldn't blow it into her eyes. She was wearing dark blue straight jeans, black heels, and a white top underneath a black leather jacket, and her lips were a bold red. Soap approached just as she was leaving and she smiled when she saw him. He was wearing washed out jeans, dirty boots, and a hooded sweater underneath a worn looking leather jacket. Melissa thought he looked pretty damn hot, in her words when she told him before they left later that morning. He met her halfway and gave her a quick kiss in greeting before laying an arm around her shoulder.

"Where are your bags?" he asked as they walked through the streets.

"In the car. I just came back to get these." She shifted the flowers slightly in her arms and shivered a little. Despite it being April, it was pretty cool out. Soap pulled her a little closer. He tried to find the right words to tell her about his plans. It's not like he could come out and say "let's go to Glasgow so you can meet my parents". That would freak her out; moving in together was big enough. And plus, would she even want to go? Glasgow was just as cold and dreary as England on a day like today. Soap decided to wait, just for a little while.

Two weeks later, Hereford obstacle course, 1600 hours…

Soap ran out of the obstacle course and headed to the gym so he could push weights. He had shaved 1/10th of a second off his previous trial, and felt a little pleased. A few days ago all of his things had officially been moved into Melissa's house, and life was good. He didn't have to go back and forth between places to get his stuff, and he had his own shower…that he frequently shared with his girlfriend, like this morning. Soap smirked at the memory. Melissa had gone to shower after breakfast and he had sneaked up behind her while she was distracted, leading to some very satisfying rewards under the shower spray. He spent another hour at the gym before heading back, jogging to their place. Melissa was watching TV, some documentary by the sounds of it. She smiled at him as he came into view. She was wearing a pair of tights and an oversized white sweater, and looked completely relaxed. Soap was relieved. Ever since she found out the truth about her mother's death, Melissa's moods had been all over the place. Some days she was happy, others she was sad and angry, others she was just depressed. Soap felt very guilty because he felt like he couldn't do anything to help her. As the weeks went by, with a little help from the counsellor (and sticking a picture of Ursa's face onto a target at the firing range) she started to feel better. And she looked it, too. She eyed the sweat gleaming on his face critically.

"Please tell me you're going to take a shower?" she asked. He leaned down to kiss her in greeting.

"Depends. Are you going to take one with me?" he asked suggestively. Melissa giggled.

"You didn't get enough this morning?"

"Nope." He walked off and was pleased to hear her sigh in defeat and follow him. The water was already running by the time Melissa got to the bathroom and Soap quickly pulled her in, kissing her squarely on the lips before shutting the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Two days later, Monday evening, 1700 hours…

"We've received intel from the United States that Ursa has been spotted in Madagascar, and that she is convening the Ultranationalist council for an important meeting." MacMillan said, bringing up a photo of Ursa stepping out of a car. She had healed pretty well after her surgery, and she looked similar to Melissa's composite that was distributed around the base's briefings. She now had brown hair, copped into a pixie cut, her face was almost devoid of age lines, and there had been some work done on her eyes and chin. It looked like the surgeon had shaved twenty years off her. "We have a mole on the inside that will send as audio of the meeting later, but this presents too good an opportunity to pass up."

"What about the Yanks?" Rook asked. "If they sent this to us, won't they be watching her too?"

"Quite right, young man." MacMillan nodded "Our alliance with the US is the reason we have this intel. And, in the spirit of co-operation, this will be a joint mission."

"What?" Price demanded. Mac raised his hand to silence him.

"I don't like it much either, John, but I was overruled on this one. You four will meet up with a Marine squad three clicks from the Simba Hotel, where the meeting will be taking place. Local guns from the United People's Army been hired for protection, and will be roaming around the city. They've been playing the genocide game since the fall of the government during the war, and have people everywhere." Pictures of dead bodies in the street and African men holding guns came up.

"The People's Army is nothing more than a bunch of disorganised thugs. They won't be a problem." Soap said, crossing his arms.

"Maybe not, but be careful." MacMillan warned "You move out at 0700 tomorrow morning, so get a good night's sleep. Our mission priorities haven't changed. Discover what the Ultranationalists are planning, and, if possible, capture Ursa Makarov."

Melissa and Soap's house, 2200 hours

Melissa came out of the bathroom in only a towel as Soap read the mission briefing in bed. She sighed.

"I wonder how much longer we have to play cat and mouse with these people." She said, heading to her chest of drawers to grab some underwear. Soap closed the manila folder in his hands.

"As long as it takes. The Ultranationalists may be weakened but they're not dead yet."

"Tell me about it." Melissa shook her head. Soap stood up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. Melissa leant back against him and he kissed the curve of her jaw.

"You're nervous?"

"A little." Melissa nodded. She breathed in his musky scent, mixed with sandalwood and a hint of tobacco and felt the roughness of the bared skin of his torso against her own.

"You'll be fine, just stay with me, like you usually do." Soap only wished he could feel as confident as he sounded. This was as close to Ursa as they would get since Argentina. Hopefully the American's wouldn't screw it up. Melissa turned in his arms and kissed him, pulling Soap away from his previous thoughts. He tightened the grip around her waist and she dropped her underwear to the floor, sliding her arms around his neck. Soap's hand climbed up her back until it reached the hem of her towel and he pulled it off swiftly, leaving her completely nude.

1200 hours, local time, Madagascar…

Soap peered through his scope. The cars were pulling into the hotel.

"Alpha One, radio check, over." Price's voice crackled over the radio.

"Bravo One, copy." Soap replied, his eyes never leaving the scene before him.

"Siren One, copy." Melissa said, loading her gun.

"X-Ray One, copy." That was Rook.

"I've received word from the leader of the American squad. They're in position around the hotel and have taken out the security in the basement. The other men won't find them until it's too late. Can you see Ursa, Soap?"

"Aye, first car. She's looking very calm." Soap looked at the older woman as she stepped out. Ursa was well dressed. She was wearing a pants suit in beige that went well with her new hair. Melissa wrinkled her nose in disgust. They were in the opposite hotel, having taken out the security roaming around earlier. Soap had dropped the bodies down the laundry chute. The Ultranationalists should really get their money back.

"Once the council's all together, we'll move. If we're lucky, we can nab most of them before the mission's out."

"Which starts in five minutes. Why haven't we seen any other members?" Melissa asked, looking at her watch.

"Most of them arrived the night before, Ursa only got here this morning." Price said. "Okay guys, move in slowly. There's a lot of open ground and it's easy to get spotted. Soap, you and Melissa go around the back, Rook and I will come in from the side."

"What about the Americans?" Melissa pointed out.

"They have their own plans. Move out!"

Soap now knew how Makarov was always one step ahead. He had gotten that trait from his mother. The hotel had been wired with explosives, especially in the conference hall where the meeting was supposed to be. Two Americans were dead and Melissa had gotten separated from him when the ground crumbled from under his feet on the third floor, a floor above the conference level. Soap had ordered Melissa to stay out of sight once he had recovered, running off before she could protest. There were no Ultranationalists to be found, they had all snuck away the night before. Ursa had gotten to the roof, where a helicopter had flown in, the Americans and Price hot on her trail, but she was too fast. She had laughed at them from the helicopter, waving as it pulled away. Price swore loudly, but didn't have that moment for long as the rest of the security ambushed them. Soap had fought his way to the first floor with the few Americans left, where he had met Price, who was with the American leader. He looked like he was in his late forties, with black hair, a neatly kept beard and muscles.

"We don't have much time before the rest of the People's Army is on top of us, we need to get to the LZ." He said as what was rest of his team, three men, gathered around him. Price shook his head.

"I still have one man missing, I'm not leaving anyone behind today."

"We might not have a choice! If we don't move now sir, we could be in big trouble!" one of the American soldiers pointed out.

"I don't know how you Yanks do it, but I always make sure I have everybody accounted for -"

"Watch your words, Major." The American commander warned, pointing a gloved finger "We don't leave out men behind either." All of a sudden, there was a noisy cracking sound immediately followed by the roof caving in. Soap heard a scream as Melissa landed in front of them, on her back, with a painful sounding "thud". Everyone had their guns pointed at her until they saw her pale skin, instead of dark brown. The commander's eyes widened and he lowered his gun.

"Melissa?" she groaned in response and slowly opened her eyes. When her vision came into focus, they bulged.

"Uncle Rhody?" she cried and he immediately pulled her to her feet, holding her steady as she stumbled. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here? God, you scared me half to death." He pulled her into a hug.

"This family reunion is very nice, but now that we have Melissa, we need to move! Now!" Price said, running in the direction of the stairs. Melissa was still dazed from her fall and her uncle quickly threw her across his shoulders, carrying her to the LZ. There were soldiers everywhere, yelling at them in Swahili to stop, or to die, and many other commands.

"Nikolai, please tell me you're almost here!" Price yelled, shooting at a militant that was coming at them.

"I'm at the LZ! Hurry, I'm about to be swarmed!" Nikolai exclaimed.

"Uncle Rhody put me down!" Melissa demanded.

"No chance kiddo, that was a nasty fall you took." Rhody said as they reached the crest of a hill, where Nikolai was waiting at the bottom. The teams slid down the rocky and sandy slope and quickly loaded into the large helicopter. Nikolai checked that everyone was on board before lifting off, the sounds of bullets ricocheting off the metal.

"I can't believe she got away again." Melissa said, setting down her gun.

"She can't keep this up forever, don't worry." Price said, reaching for a cigar. Rhody looked at his niece, checking her head for wounds.

"I'm okay, Uncle Rhody." Melissa insisted. Rhody sighed, releasing her head.

"You still need to be checked out after falling through a ceiling." He said. "Now, would you please explain why in hell you were on a mission like this?"

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" she cringed. Rhody nodded, giving her a look that a parent reserved for their naughty child. "Grandpa didn't tell you about my deal?"

"Yeah, he did, but I didn't think you'd be allowed to take risks like these. You could have been killed, Melissa."

"If there's a mission that involves Ursa, I'm on it. What about you? I thought you were taken out of the field four years ago."

"I was called back into service. No rest for the wicked, kid." Rhody smirked. Then he eyed Soap, who glared in return. Melissa sensed the tension and rested her hand on her boyfriend's knee.

"Uncle Rhody, this is John." She introduced.

"_The_ John we keep hearing about? A pleasure." Rhody stuck out his hand "Ronald Morton."

"Pleasure's mine." Soap shook his hand. He had a good look at Melissa's uncle now that they weren't on the run from animalistic Africans. Rhody looked at least fifty, with tanned skin and several scars around his face and neck. His black hair was streaked with grey, now that his hat was off and his head was in full view. He looked fighting fit, and Soap could see a bit of a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt. Soap could see his eyes, like his girlfriend's, were hazel. "This is going to be a long flight." Soap thought before closing his eyes, hearing Melissa and Rhody chatting away.

Later that night, 2000 hours, Hereford…

"Mom taught you well, honey, that steak was great." Rhody complimented as he set his plates down next to the sink. Melissa smiled as she added soap to the water in the sink.

"What, Nancy hasn't cooked you a decent meal in twenty years?"

"Sneaky question." He said slyly. "Are you sure I can't help you?"

"Nah, this is my "me" time. Why don't you and John get to know each other? The scotch from grandpa's in that cabinet." She pointed to the cabinet behind her. Rhody got it out, as well as two glasses. "Be nice."

"Would I be any different?"

"You want me to show you my list?"

"Very funny." He kissed her forehead before walking back to the dining room. Soap was walking out from the direction of the bathroom. "Hey John, want one? Come join me." Soap sat down opposite Rhody and put on his best straight face, fully aware of the interrogation that was about to happen. Rhody poured a glass of scotch and handed it to him before pouring his own. "To the end of the Ultranationalists." He toasted.

"Here here." Soap agreed, tapping Rhody's glass before knocking back his own. As he put it down, he noticed the older man smiling. He must have passed some kind of test. Rhody poured him another.

"Your moves out there were impressive. You train much?"

"Everyday." Soap answered.

"Good. A lazy soldier is no good to anybody. So," he looked Soap in the eye "how long have you and Melissa been together?" Soap held back a smirk. He knew this was coming.

"Four months."

"You love her?"

"I do."

"Despite whom she's related to?"

"It's not her fault. You can't pick your family."

"No, you can't. My niece is precious, MacTavish, and I want to know that she hasn't made a mistake by going into this relationship. The last thing she needs is more pain. The only reason why my father allowed Melissa to stay here is because this job was something she really wanted, and we won't have anyone screwing this opportunity up for her. Including you."

"I won't do anything to her."

"Not intentionally. If it were up to me Melissa would be coming home with me on the plane back to Arizona tomorrow morning."

"She won't let you do that, and you can't make those decisions for her. Melissa's nearly twenty-five, not fifteen."

"That's true, but -"

"But nothing." Soap interrupted, his blood boiling. "Melissa's at home here. She loves what she does, and I love her. I would die first before I hurt her. So stop trying to play your pathetic little mind games, because they won't work on me." Rhody stared at him and Soap held his gaze, daring him to say something else. Then, Rhody sighed.

"No, they obviously don't." then he smiled "You make Melissa happy, and she's happy here. And even though I have my objections, it doesn't look like they'll really matter. Take care of her."

"I will." Soap's lips quirked into a small smile. He had won.

2200 hours…

"Oh my God! He actually played that game on you?" Melissa groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This is embarrassing."

"It's fine. I won, remember?" Soap climbed into bed.

"I just still can't believe he did it!" she fell back onto the mattress, her light brown hair fanning out over the pillow "It was funny to watch him interrogate my cousin's boyfriends, but know I know how she must of felt."

"He's just looking out for you."

"I know." She looked up at him and smiled "You're probably the only one who passed his test and lived to tell the tale."

"Very funny." Soap said dryly and leaned down to kiss her. "Get some sleep."

"Yes sir." She said teasingly before rolling onto her side. Soap reached over to the bedside lamp and turned it off before properly laying down, pulling Melissa closer to him.

The next morning, hanger bay, 1030 hours

"Now, take care of yourself, train whenever you get the chance. That mission could have turned out a lot worse yesterday."

"I know, Uncle Rhody, I will."

"That's my girl." he pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. Melissa breathed in the scent of soap and sandalwood, holding her uncle tight. "Now, just remember, you can come home anytime you want. If you want to pull out of this, you only have to say so." Melissa looked up at him.

"I like it here. Sure, the days are cold and the base is full of testosterone, but, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Well, I know I can't convince you to come with me." Rhody then saw Soap a few meters away, keeping his distance so they could have their moment. He wasn't there a second ago. "You have a good man, Melissa. I'd say he's worth keeping."

"You'll put in a good word with Grandpa?"

"Maybe." He said slyly before kissing her forehead "I love you kid. Take care."

"You too, Uncle Rhody." She said and he stepped away, walking to the plane. She turned and smiled when she saw her boyfriend, walking over to him.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked. Soap slithered his arms around her torso.

"Long enough." Was all he said before she craned her head to kiss him. The plane started its engines and the two looked at it as it rolled out of the hanger, taking Melissa's uncle and his soldiers home.


	17. Chapter 17

Melissa's office, 1200 hours, Hereford…

Melissa nearly spat out her water at Soap's news.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed after she recovered. Soap nodded.

"One week of leave, you and me. MacMillan approved my request this morning." He hoped that she was happy.

"That's great!" she smiled, much to his relief. She placed down the animatronic remote and hugged him tightly. "So, what are we going to do for seven days?"

"I'm going to take you to Glasgow." Melissa blinked. She was half expecting it but she wasn't really sure that Soap would want to go home during these uncertain times. But then she realised that he probably hadn't been back in a few years, and was homesick. Not that he would ever admit it.

"That sounds like a nice idea. When do we leave?"

"Saturday morning." Soap raised a brow at her. "I thought you would be a little more resistant."

"Well, I was, but then I realised that you've worked non-stop since you rescued me and that you might be homesick. I'm trying to be the understanding girlfriend here. How am I doing?"

"Getting there." He answered. She opened her mouth to retort but he gave her no chance, kissing her to shut her up. She moaned in appreciation and ran her hands up his torso so that she could reach her arms around his neck. Soap kissed his way across her jaw and down her neck, causing her to sigh in appreciation. "There's more you can do in an office besides work, you know." He said suggestively, his breath hot in her ear after he made his way back up her jaw. Melissa giggled.

"I love your idea, but it wouldn't be much fun if we got caught, would it?" Soap grunted in frustration, knowing that she was right. MacMillan visited her at least once a day to check on her progress with valuable intel and there were people constantly roaming around the building, including security after the Kosolov severed head incident. He kissed her heatedly once more, running his large hand through her silky smooth hair. Once they parted, he whispered in her ear –

"I'll see you later." Melissa felt weak at the knees, knowing full well what he was planning on doing to her "later". He smirked and turned to leave, Melissa looking appreciatively at his rear as he walked out. She picked up her remote once he was out the door and continued the data analysis she was doing before he had walked in.

Saturday, MacTavish household, 1300 hours…

Melissa held back a yawn as she helped Soap's mother wash the dishes. She and Soap had gotten up early (well, early for her) so they could get on the plane for the four hour flight. After checking into the hotel, Soap had driven them to his parent's new place, a small townhouse in the middle of the city. Matthew, his younger brother, was there with his fiancée, Laura. Melissa had been apprehensive about meeting Soap's parents, but the fears went away after Irene welcomed her into the house with open arms. Currently, the MacTavish men were in the sitting room with beers, yelling at the football game on the TV. Melissa thought she was looking at Soap's twin when she first laid eyes on Matthew. They looked almost exactly alike. Matthew had dark brown messy hair, blue eyes and was clean shaven. But Soap was two years older, had a mow hawk and, in Melissa's opinion, was ten times hotter. Laura rolled her eyes.

"Men." was all she said. Laura looked a little older than Melissa. She had long blond hair, brown eyes and a slim figure. Melissa nodded.

"Men and their games." She sighed.

"Ah, you learn to deal with it. If I've done it for forty years, then so can you." Irene said, pulling out a chocolate cake from a storage container. "So Melissa, you do all the cooking at your place?"

"I won't let John anywhere near the oven or the stove. He's better at cooking grenades than dinner." She chuckled. "My grandma taught me a trick or two."

"Well, the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach. That's how I kept Glenn for this long." She winked. Irene left to put the cake on the table and Laura put the last dish on the drying rack, then turning to face Melissa.

"You never made it clear how you and John really met." Melissa paused in folding her dish towel. She had been vague at Glenn's question of how they met, and Soap told him to drop it when he pushed too hard, but she knew that someone would ask her about it sooner or later. Laura looked like someone who wasn't satisfied until she got all the answers. She looked at Laura, who was looking back at her expectantly. Suddenly, Melissa felt her blood boil. This woman, who she barely even knew, was trying to pry into her personal life, into a part that she thought she had buried forever.

"John saved me from a hellhole; I was kept as a prisoner by the Ultranationalists. That's how we met. You happy now?" she stormed past a stunned Laura into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Melissa felt the tears sting in her eyes and she pushed them away, telling herself not to break down now. There was a knock at the door, which made her jump.

"Melissa, are you alright?" it was Soap.

"Yeah, just give me a minute!" she called, turning on the tap. She heard Soap's heavy footfalls as he walked away from the bathroom and she cupped her hands, gathering water so she could wash her face. After drying her face and hands and turning off the light, Melissa walked to the dining room, where everyone else was gathering. Soap pulled out her chair for her and she sat down, smiling at Glenn as he told a football joke, and Matthew berating him for its corniness. She laid a hand on Soap's knee after he sat down, and he smiled at her, accepting plates from his mother and handing one to her. Melissa got the satisfaction of Laura's slightly guilty face as she ate her cake, joining in the conversation and laughing. But inside, she felt her heart ache. This made her miss her family even more.

City centre, 1500 hours…

"I need a drink." Soap grumbled as they walked through town. They had left his parent's place and had gone into the newer part of Glasgow's city centre. People were everywhere, getting their shopping done, meeting friends, doing something. Everyone had a destination or a plan.

"Family tends to make you want to drink." Melissa nodded "But I think you've had enough beer to float a keg."

"I only had two." He said defensively. Melissa chuckled.

"I had a nice time, John. You have a great family."

"I suppose they aren't that bad." Soap smiled as Melissa laughed at his joke. "I'm glad you like them. But…" he trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

"Yes; but." Melissa rolled her eyes. "Every time your mother looked at me, it's as if she was saying "incubator"." Soap coughed. That was unexpected.

"Well, she does bug Matthew and me for grandkids." He admitted, somewhat uncomfortably.

"And do you want kids?" Soap felt his heart rate speed up. This was something he never really considered. So, he deflected the question.

"Do you?"

"I asked you first." Soap felt like cursing, but he knew there was no way out of this one; Melissa was too smart. He sighed.

"Honestly? I never really thought about kids. I've never had the right girl to think about having them with, either. Plus, with the way the world is now, I just don't see it happening. I don't want my children to grow up with the fear of war, and the Ultranationalists." Soap looked down at Melissa to see her reaction. She looked contemplative.

"I want kids, one day, one of each maybe. But you're right with the way the world is, John. It would be selfish to bring a baby into a world as broken as it is right now."

"But you do want children, Mel?"

"When I'm a little older, a little wiser. When I'm less liable to drink." Soap chuckled at that one. "Yes, I want kids." She laid her head against his bicep and they continued walking along down the cobblestone streets.

Hotel Royale, Glasgow, 2200 hours…

Soap spat out the toothpaste into the sink and washed it down the pipes. He and his girlfriend had gotten back from dinner twenty minutes ago, and he had to admit it was a good start to their leave. His mother didn't embarrass him too much, he and his brother didn't break anything valuable in the new house, and Melissa didn't have a psychological breakdown. So far, so good. He caught sight of his scar in the mirror (he had taken off his shirt earlier) and paused. A lot of time had passed since he had received it, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday, when Shepard had plunged that hunting knife into his body. Soap remembered the look on the deranged General's face. He had completely lost his mind, thinking that he had created a war for the greater good. Soap had lost two of his best men because of Shepard. After he had recovered, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't let history be repeated.

"John." He heard Melissa call out in a sing-song voice. Soap smirked and pushed the thoughts about Shepard, and his scar, away. Right now he was back at home, in a happy relationship, with his beautiful better half waiting for him outside. Soap put the toothbrush on the counter and walked out of the bathroom, walking towards the bedroom. He stopped at the doorway, stunned. Melissa was wearing lacy, black lingerie, and she looked good enough to eat, in Soap's opinion. She giggled at his staring. "You like it?"

"Very much. You had this planned for a while, haven't you?" he said knowingly and smirking all the more, walking up to her and placing his hands on her waist. Melissa slid her arms around his torso, smiling bashfully.

"Well, we're alone, there's no war outside; it's just you and me." Soap suddenly felt his belt being whipped off his jeans. She was sneaky. Melissa's hazel eyes pierced into his blue ones, going from innocent to smouldering, and Soap felt a familiar heat run through his body. "And I don't want to waste our time sleeping."

"Fine with me." Was all he said before crushing her lips with his and pushing her back to the large bed.

Hotel Royale, Glasgow, 0930 hours…

Melissa yawned and reluctantly woke up, stretching like a cat to sort out the kinks in her muscles. The mattress felt soft, warm and comfortable under her sore, naked body. She opened her eyes and saw that the other side of the bed was empty. She wasn't really surprised, because Soap was always up early, even on vacation and weekends. Melissa's acute sense of hearing picked up the sound of the TV through the closed bedroom doors. She slowly got out of bed and grabbed the bathrobe that was sitting on the chair near the bed. After tying it closed Melissa opened the doors to the bedroom and walked out towards the living room, where she saw Soap watching the news. He heard her coming and turned his head, smiling as she walked towards him.

"What time were you up?" she asked, sitting in his lap. Soap rested a large hand on her waist.

"Six." Was all he said.

"Come on, John, we're on vacation. I think one of the bonuses is sleeping in 'till noon."

"You know I can never do that."

"I know, but you could try. I'm going back soon, anyway. Care to join me?" she asked, waggling her perfectly shaped eyebrows. Soap smirked and was quickly standing, carrying her in his arms back to the bedroom. Melissa laughed, and it was music to his ears.


	18. Chapter 18

Hereford, seven days later, 0900 hours…

"Hello poppet! You look refreshed!" MacMillan said jovially as he walked into the office. Melissa smiled at him. She and Soap had gotten back to the base the evening before and were now well rested and ready for anything.

"You're in a good mood, Mac."

"I'm on a coffee high, it'll wear off."

"That's more like it." she chuckled, turning back to her screen. "Thanks for keeping my office clean."

"Ah, don't sweat it. I have a present for you, if you're not too busy."

"Sure. What it is it?" she asked, cocking a brow. Mac pulled a flash drive out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"We received this from one of our contacts this morning. We believe it holds a video meeting between Ursa and an arms dealer, but the file's somehow corrupted. I need you to try clean it up, if you can."

"Let me see what I can do." Melissa said, walking over to the computer drives set up in the wall and plugging the stick in.

Firing range…

"I hear Major MacTavish just got back last night from his leave."

"That's right; he's back from Scotland with his lady love. Any idea who she is?"

"Not really. Rumour's floating around that she's a civilian liaison here, a scientist or something. Major likes to keep her to himself a lot."

"That's bullocks! Doesn't he know that a woman's meant to be shown off?" Price grunted at the stupidity of the privates in the gun locker. Luckily rumours got warped, in this case. Melissa was an artist, not a scientist. And Soap wanted to keep her to himself for a reason. If word got out about her good and bad relations, the troopers would hound her to no end. He smiled as he imagined what would happen if his own wife heard that last remark. Trish would kill them and then revive the privates just for the sake of killing them again. She was good with death threats like that.

"What're you smiling for, old man?" Price looked up to see Soap walking through the door.

"You're finally back. I was worried about leaving for the next one with just Rook."

"You miss me?"

"Maybe. How'd it all go?"

"Better than I hoped." Soap went over to the rack and pulled out a sniper rifle.

"Did Melissa get along with your parents?"

"My mother reckons she's the one for me, so she must have." Soap laid it on the table and went through checking the chamber. "My dad's head over heels for her."

"That's good. When I first met Trish's parents her dad chased after me with a pitchfork."

"And how did that happen?"

"You don't need to know." Price said, flashing back to thirty years earlier. He and Trish we making out in the barn and her father had found them, ending the disastrous first date. "Come on, you might need some practice."

Melissa's office, 1130 hours…

"Melissa finished cleaning up the video, and we caught Ursa in an argument with an arms dealer, whose identity is yet to be discerned, our operative didn't catch his face." Mac said, nodding to Melissa. She hit the button that played the video and the room was filled with Ursa's screams, she was mad about something. "From what was translated, she's behind on her payments; she was denied a shipment of weapons because of her piling debts."

"How much?" Price asked.

"150,000 pounds."

"That's pocket change, isn't it? At least for Ursa." Soap pointed out, but Mac shook his head.

"According to another source, Ursa's been blowing away her son's fortune that he left behind. She'll make more eventually from the Ultranationalists other endeavours, but it's not coming fast enough."

"So what will she do?"

"Ursa's left the arms dealer, and she's headed to Abu Dhabi. That was on Friday. According to local reports, the emir's daughter, Princess Sheera al-Banier went missing twenty-four hours ago."

"That can't be a co-incidence." Price said.

"I agree. According to our spy, he's spotted the princess in Damascus, in another torture chamber. Ursa's been seen with her repeatedly."

"Ursa's holding her for ransom. The emir's in the Emirates are some of the wealthiest men in the world." Melissa said.

"Indeed. Emir Haza al-Banier is apparently distraught with his daughter's disappearance, and he's still waiting for a ransom demand. There's one other thing. The princess is pregnant with her first child."

"What? How far along?" Price demanded.

"She's due any day. We're guessing that Ursa is hoping the child will be born in captivity so that she can double the ransom."

"Which explains why she hasn't made any demands yet, she's waiting for the princess to give birth." Melissa said, looking at the picture of the princess that she brought up. "The poor thing must be terrified." Princess Sheera was a beautiful young woman; she had long black hair, brown eyes lined with kohl, and high cheekbones.

"The compound is Damascus is heavily guarded. Our spy will do whatever he can, but you have to be careful. We don't want the princess or the baby to be harmed."

Locker room, 1200 hours…

Soap walked up to Melissa as she fastened the gun holster around her leg.

"You alright?" he asked as she grabbed her desert scarf. Melissa glanced at him.

"I'm not sure. I knew Ursa was evil but to put a baby in danger…it's just not right."

"The Ultranationalists use anything they can to get what they want, and they don't care how young it is. I still remember Dr Urbawitz's story about the little girl Makarov killed to get his way." Melissa nodded at his words. "Like you say; Ursa will get hers."

"I know." Soap pulled her into a hug. Melissa closed her eyes and savoured the moment, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hold her again until this was all over.

Outskirts of Damascus, three clicks from Ultranationalist compound, 0100 hours…

Melissa chewed another jelly bean to keep her eyes open, looking through the scope of her rifle at the same time. A patrol was approaching. Most of the citizens had either fled the city or locked their doors at the Ultranationalists arrival, leaving the streets silent, except for the occasional gunshot from a soldier executing a potential witness. Rook was with her in the single storey house while Soap and Price took care of the small patrol.

"Clear, move up." She heard Price's voice crackle in her ear. Melissa followed Rook out the back door and through the streets, slowly making their way to the compound. There was a house not too far from it, where there was a hidden entrance to a secret tunnel, carved from solid rock during ancient times so that closet Christians could worship in secret. The house was currently unoccupied, as the owner had either left town or been executed. Rook slowly opened the houses' back door and they almost immediately came face to face with Price and Soap. After lowering his weapon, Price motioned to move. They all silently moved to the kitchen, where a wooden door was hidden under the table. Price and Rook opened it as quietly as they could; if any sound was heard from the presumed-empty house it would alert somebody's suspicions. Soap went in first, followed by Melissa, then Price, and lastly Rook, who closed the door. Soap turned on the light of his sniper rifle and led the way through the tunnel. It branched out to create other tunnels, but they kept moving forward in a straight line. Melissa wondered what tales these walls could tell. After fifteen minutes of jogging through the tunnel, they reached the door they were looking for. Rook climbed up the steps and pushed the wooden door open. Two soldiers were dropped and the others came out of the tunnel. All of a sudden, there was a female scream that echoed through the building. The same female voice then started crying, and then more screaming followed. The princess, by the sounds of it, was giving birth. Price signalled to move. More Ultranationalists were guarding the hallways, but they were quickly shot as the four made their way towards the screams. Then the voice cried –

"My baby! Give me my baby!"

"That's coming from down the hall!" Rook cried. They ran the rest of the way, surprisingly not encountering any resistance. Rook kicked the door at the end of the hall open and the guards were quickly shot, but Soap glimpsed Ursa running around the corner. She was carrying the baby. Princess Sheera was on a table with an IV in her arm and back, crying hysterically. She was in an oversized hospital gown.

"Give my baby back!" she cried, tears running down her dirty face, trying to sit up. She was too weak.

"Rook, Melissa, stay here with the princess, we'll go after Ursa!" Price commanded before they ran off. Ursa was a good five minutes ahead, taking the baby with her to God knows where. She most likely had a helicopter nearby. They got up to the roof of the house and then jumped over them, seeing Ursa and two guards dead ahead. Soap took his pistol and shot them, leaving Ursa alone. She glanced over her shoulder and after jumping over another roof, she pulled a stack of crates nearby so that their way was blocked to the next roof. "We have no choice! Other way!" Price yelled. Soap took off to the left, trying to keep up with Ursa. For a woman her age, she was fast. Ursa looked over her shoulder again. Soap was still a bit far behind. But she wasn't looking where she was going and tripped.

"NO!" Soap and Price cried, looking on in horror as she fell, her grip loosening on the baby in her arms. It fell over the ledge, down to the street with a loud cry. Soap ran to the edge to see where it fell, but got the surprise of his life when he saw Melissa get off her back on the street below, cradling the newborn in her arms.

Melissa got up slowly, grimacing at the pain in her back. She had followed them through the streets, ignoring Rook's protests before she ran out of the compound. She even surprised herself at how she was able to keep up with Price, Soap and Ursa. Going to the gym was definitely worth it. Melissa checked over the newborn, but the baby was fine. Crying, but fine. Melissa looked up to the ledge and meet Ursa's eyes. She saw the older woman's surprised expression, but didn't have time to wonder why when she pulled out her pistol and aimed. Ursa quickly rolled away as Melissa fired, the bullets narrowly missing her head. Melissa huffed, and considered running, but the cry from the baby brought her back to reality. She looked down at the baby's face. Its eyes were scrunched up and its little mouth was open, verbally making its displeasure known.

"There there, the bad lady's gone." Melissa cooed, bouncing the newborn a little in her arms. She turned a heel and walked back to the compound.

By the time Soap and Price ran back across the rooftops, Melissa was already there, passing the baby over to the princess.

"It's a boy." She announced, and princess began to cry again, but this time for joy. Soap walked to Melissa's side and couldn't help but notice the smile on her face.

"Nikolai, we have the packages, ready for exfil." Price said into the radio.

"Packages?" the Russian questioned, sounding surprised.

"We have a boy." Price replied before continuing "Rook, carry the princess to the LZ, I doubt she can stand."

"No, no, I think I can." Princess Sheera then groaned in pain as she tried to put pressure on her feet, almost falling to the ground if Soap and Rook didn't catch her.

"Forgive me, your highness, but you're in no condition to walk." Price said. Sheera looked conflicted, looking down at her son, and then to Melissa.

"Can you hold him?" Melissa looked taken aback.

"A-Are you sure?"

"Yes yes, please." Melissa quickly took the baby back in her arms and Rook swept Sheera off the ground, carrying her out the door. Soap stuck to Melissa's side as the group walked to the LZ a hundred meters away in the barren streets. She was protectively clutching him against her chest, and at the sound of a heartbeat, the little prince had fallen asleep. Soap smiled at the sight to himself. He had no doubt that Melissa would make a great mother one day. They reached the helicopter in a minute and hopped on. Nikolai would be taking them to the safe house in Jordan, before the princess and her son could return to Abu Dhabi.


	19. Chapter 19

Abu Dhabi, the next day, 1400 hours…

"Now this is good living." Rook said appreciatively, looking around the room they were given in the emir's palace. After rescuing the princess, MacMillan had contacted the team in Jordan, telling them that the emir had been informed that the mission was successfully completed, and they would be his personal guests at his palace ball to celebrate his daughter's return, and the birth of his grandson. The princess and the baby were checked over by the doctors at the safe house and were given a clean bill of health. They had arrived in Abu Dhabi a few minutes ago and were immediately escorted to the palace, after their weapons had been confiscated. The room they were given had six bedrooms, golden fittings and expensive furniture.

"No time to stand and stare. Get changed, the emir wants to see us as soon as possible." Price ordered. Everyone was led by the servants to their respective rooms. When Soap walked into his room he was stunned. This made the house he and Melissa shared looked like a cardboard box. The bed was covered in expensive linen, flowers decorated the mantle, and the wallpaper was hand painted with beautiful designs of birds and flowers. He then saw a suit laid out on the bed and waved the servant off. He then looked down at the clothes he had changed into at the safe house. Dark shirt, pants, dirty boots. Yep, not the thing you want to wear when you meet royalty. Soap rubbed his jaw. He could probably use a shave, too. Soap walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. After scrubbing off, shaving, and getting changed into the suit and shirt that he suspected cost more than what he made in a year, Soap walked back to the living room, where Price was puffing on a cigar that was given to him by his servant, who was standing behind him. Rook was looking out at the view of the courtyard from their balcony. Nikolai was sipping vodka from a glass next to Price, also in a suit.

"Where's Mel?" he asked. She was nowhere to be seen. He waved off the offer of a cigar from the servant. He was trying to quit smoking.

"She hasn't come out yet. You know women and their primping." Price said knowingly, blowing out smoke.

"Drink sir?" the servant asked.

"Scotch on the rocks." Soap ordered, walking towards the opposite couch. The servant bowed and hurried away. Soap gingerly sat on the red and gold fabric seat. Price was wearing a suit similar to his, bit with a black shirt instead of white. He was devoid of his bonnie hat and he looked like he trimmed his whiskers. Soap's eyes roamed round the room. "You wouldn't believe that there was a war going on if you lived in a place like this."

"Some people are ignorant to the worse things in life, Soap, if they can afford it." Price replied as Soap's servant swanned in with his drink on a golden tray. Soap sipped the drink. It was smooth, and tasted expensive. As his eyes did another round of the room he nearly choked on his drink. Melissa had come out from her room, with her servant following three steps behind. She was wearing a silk dress that sat just above her knees with a red flower design on it that complimented her slightly tanned skin. Her hair was in its mermaid braid, her fringe sweeping across her forehead. Her eyes were outlined in black and her lips were painted red. If anyone looked like they belonged in this palace, it was her. Soap, Nikolai and Price stood as she walked towards them.

"Would you like a drink, miss?" her servant asked politely.

"A martini please, Raman." She smiled and he went off to do her bidding. She walked over to Soap and gave him a quick kiss in greeting.

"You look fantastic." He complimented, wrapping his free arm around her waist. Melissa blushed under her makeup.

"You don't look so bad either. And look at you, Price, Nikolai. Nice suits."

"Nice dress." Price smiled, waving his servant over so that he could order a drink.

"It suits you well." Nikolai nodded approvingly.

"I think this dress is fourteen grand, so I hope it does." She said nervously as Raman came over with her martini. Soap was amazed.

"Fourteen grand for a dress?" he asked incredulously.

"It's Dior." Melissa defended, sipping her drink. A few seconds later another servant walked in, just as Rook was walking in from the balcony.

"I am sorry to disturb you. His highness requests your presence in the garden."

Gardens…

Emir Haza al-Banier was sitting in a cabana in the garden, his daughter and most likely his son in law sitting next to him. Sheera was cooing to the baby, who was making happy noises. The emir was an old man with greying hair under his headwear and a salt and pepper moustache. He was wearing a white robe and expensive looking black leather shoes. He stood when he saw the group and smiled widely.

"Welcome to my palace!" he said jovially. Price offered his hand and the emir shook it vigorously. "I owe you many thanks for the rescue of my daughter and my new grandson."

"We were only doing our job, your highness." Price replied, sitting down on the opposite lounge. The others following suit.

"That may be so, but what you have done has restored balance to my family." The emir snapped his fingers, which made the servants hurry away. "I hope you will still be attending the ball."

"We wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent! The servants will escort you to the ball at seven o'clock sharp. I believe you will have a good time. Major Price, is it?"

"Yes, your highness."

"I have spoken with your commander. At my insistence, the five of you will be given three days leave here as my honoured personal guests, as a reward for your actions."

"That's very generous, your highness." Soap could hardly believe what he was hearing. Three days in a palace? Not too bad. But who would follow the leads on Ursa?

"Your commander will contact you later this evening, before the ball, he wished to speak with you privately." The emir said as the servants returned, carrying plates of fresh fruit and delicious looking food.

Guest room, living area, 1850 hours…

Soap walked in as Price handed the phone back to his servant.

"What did Mac say?" he asked.

"That another group is following a lead on Ursa, and that we're ordered to enjoy ourselves while this lasts. I'm not about to argue with him, to tell you the truth." They were wearing suits and ties, ready for the emir's ball. Rook and Nikolai were on the couches, drinking. Melissa wasn't to be seen, until –

"Wow." Rook's eyes were wide, and he didn't bother to look away. Soap turned and the sight took his breath away. Melissa was in a black gown that hugged her curves, with a diamond necklace and her hair in a bun high on her head. Her makeup had been retouched and Raman, her servant, was helping her secure a diamond bracelet around her wrist.

"Wow is right." Soap said appreciatively. Melissa rolled her eyes but smiled while she did it.

"Alight, enough ogling." Price chastised. "We have a dance to attend."

Ballroom, 1905 hours…

The ballroom was filled with guests in expensive clothes and even more expensive jewellery. Soap had never felt more out of place. They were standing closest to the emir and his family, being his honoured guests and all. After the emir made his speech, everyone mingled, putting on nice faces and making polite greetings. The music began and some couples took to the dance floor for the waltz.

"May I have this dance?" Soap offered his hand, and Melissa smiled

"I would love to." She took his hand and he escorted her to the floor. After assuming the waltz pose, Soap and Melissa danced in time with the music.

"John MacTavish, you are full of surprises." Melissa said slyly.

"How's that?" he asked.

"I didn't know you could dance."

"It's something I don't advertise."

"Your mother made you?"

"Yes." Melissa giggled. "It's not funny."

"It is, just a little." She chuckled. Soap sighed in defeat. "How are you feeling, after everything that happened in Syria?"

"I'm okay. But maybe I should be asking you the same question. You're the one that caught a falling baby, Mel."

"I'm fine. But the look on Ursa's face after I caught the prince; she looked surprised to see me. I don't think she knew that I was working for the SAS at all."

"She wasn't expecting you to be there, I reckon. But let's not worry about her right now. Deal?"

"Deal." Melissa replied, smiling at him.

Living area, 0010 hours…

Soap walked towards the living room, hoping to make his way to the kitchen, unable to sleep. He and Melissa were given separate bedrooms and though he felt that sleeping on his expensive mattress was like sleeping on a cloud, Soap was finding it hard to sleep without her next to him. Soap made it to the kitchen after weaving his way around the large maze of the suite, only to see his girlfriend there drinking a glass of water. Melissa was in long pants and a shirt, which Soap found disappointing because he couldn't see her long, toned legs.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked. Melissa gulped the rest of the water down and placed her glass on the table.

"Nope." She said simply as Soap reached for a glass in the cabinet over the sink. "I guess I'm just finding it hard to settle down after the ball, and the mission. What's your excuse?"

"I just can't sleep." He replied, turning on the water.

"Mm." she nodded, leaning against the counter next to him as Soap took his water in one gulp. "You know, my bed's really big, and I fell a bit lonely."

"You need some company?" he asked suggestively.

"You're all the company I need." She smiled at him. "I love you."

"I love you too." He leaned down and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her slim waist. Melissa held onto him tightly, as if she were afraid that he would disappear. Soap was reluctant to part, but the burning need for air became apparent. He quickly swept Melissa off the floor and carried her out of the kitchen back to her room, Melissa's laughing echoing off the walls. Soap could hardly remember when he rescued her from that hellish castle in Germany, when she was so weak and broken. Even then he was fighting his own demons, not knowing if he could afford to be with someone or if he would ever find the right woman to settle with. He was just another soldier, taking orders and killing the men who turned the earth into a burning hellhole. Now, Melissa was the love of his life, the little speck of light he could see in the darkness. He didn't deserve her, and God knows what she saw in him, but it didn't matter. At the end of the day, they were made for each other.

The end… for now…


End file.
